


hook me up

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, band fic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that ridiculous band fic au, lost girl style. where bo sings the room electric, dyson is a bro to everyone, kenzi is awesome and tamsin tries to negotiate with her feelings. and yes, alcohol. lots and lots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. front row

**Author's Note:**

> ah, my favorite universe. of course, this was coming. much apologies. title is from an album by the veronicas. chapters are named after songs by metric. their fantasies album is fantastic.

At the end of the day, Dyson turns to her and says, "I think it's about time you get back out there." It's one of those Friday nights that they're out drinking, and Dyson's being Dyson with half a keg of beer in him.

"Everybody should get back out there, if you ask me," she replies. Dyson shrugs, tossing the pack of cigarettes over. "Seriously, must you insist on hooking me up with _everyone_ every time we go out?"

Dyson laughs, snatching the cigarette that Tamsin had just taken out of the pack. "I wasn't talking about setting you up," he says, pausing to light it. Tamsin just rolls her eyes. It's nice to have a wingman, but when that wingman is _Dyson_ , it kind of gets exhausting. "I'm talking about singing with us."

Tamsin narrows her eyes at him. "You already _have_ a singer." Dyson laughs, and Tamsin elbows him in the chest. "Weren't you there the _last time_ Bo and I shared a stage?"

"Wasn't I there? _Wasn't I there?_ " Dyson struggles to keep speaking through his sustained laughter, spreading his arms dramatically, bottle of beer in his right hand. "I don't think anybody's _ever_ forgotten that night, Tam-Tam."

Tamsin glares at him, downing the rest of her beer in one swig. "Call me Tam-Tam again, I'd totally bash your teeth in," she just says.

*

It's not that Tamsin and Bo are not _friends --_ the thing is, they _are_ , and to Tamsin, that's the problem. She remembers _that_ last time -- it was for a benefit gig, and they only jammed onstage because _Dyson_ thought it would be a crowd-pleaser.  And what a huge crowd-pleaser it was -- it was Tamsin's first time to play around Bo, and it left her _humming_ with a strange sort of electricity many hours later.

And Bo, she was nothing like Tamsin's ever seen, and Tamsin's seen _a lot. You think you've seen it all_ , she tells herself in her head.  _And then you see someone like Bo._ Not that Tamsin wasn't used to performing with other bands -- just that Bo was _something else._

That, and the fact that when their set ended, Bo thanked her with a kiss.

 _One for the road,_ Tamsin remembers her whispering, after. That time, Tamsin had only looked at her, puzzled. _Where does this girl get off being perfect?_

*

They went on tour after that, and Tamsin saw very little of them since then--until a couple of months ago, when Dyson called to say he was in town.

"What have you been up to?" is how he begins that conversation.

"Well, between today and two years ago, you mean," is how Tamsin begins answering. Dyson smiles at her, looking all too kind. He must have heard how it all went down -- Tamsin's band broke up a few months after the charity gig, and that left Tamsin without much. "Well, there's the break up,  then there's Norway, and a lot of vodka. Norway was too cold, man. And yes, I still suck at summaries."

"I think that was rather well summarized," Dyson says, laughing. "Though really, Norway?"

Tamsin smacks him in the arm. "You expect me to hang around after the fall out? I may be crazy, but not _that_ crazy. Besides, vodka could only do so much."

"Speaking of which -- can I get you anything to drink?"

Tamsin holds her hands up, smiling. "Not today, cowboy. Still feeling kinda jetlagged."

"Jetlagged? When did _you_ fly in?"

"Couple of nights back," says Tamsin. "Truth be told, I'm just itching for a cig. Have any?"

Dyson pats through all his pockets before producing one crumpled pack from the back of his jeans. "It would be a pity if the only person I wanted to drink with in this town would want to be sober for the rest of her stay," he says, sliding the lighter toward her across the table between them. "Though of course, if that's your thing…"

"Who said anything about being sober? Can't a girl just _recover,_ for Christ's sake."

Dyson grins. "Just checking." And then, "So. Same time Friday night? I heard about this new bar--"

"--Where new bands now play, yeah. It was all over the magazines I read." Then, off Dyson's raised brow: "Though really, who names their bar 'The Dal'?"

"You'd be surprised," Dyson just says, smiling cryptically.

*

They don't talk about Bo until the third Friday they go out, spending the first two just listening to the kids, surveying the crowd and of course, drinking. Tamsin tries to ease herself back into the scene as painlessly as possible, only to find that while the _faces_ are different, the _feeling_ is more or less the same.

"While I'm glad they tore down the old one," she tells Dyson, "I'm still not feeling this new one." And then, "Maybe we should move to the pub across the street." Dyson just nods quietly, finishing his beer and settling the tab.

The pub across the street is decidedly smaller and low-key -- if anything, it seems that its main patrons are spillovers from The Dal, and are either bands of all-too-nervous kids waiting for their turn or small and quiet, all-too-drunk huddles. Tamsin feels comfortable with both.

"That's more like it," she tells Dyson as they walk in. The place is quiet and almost empty, despite the fact that it is already well past midnight and the party at The Dal is already in full swing. "Dal _Lite_ ," Tamsin smirks, finding a spot by the window. From where they're sitting, they can see people come and go at the Dal, but they hear nothing. Tamsin thinks it's quite perfect.

Dyson hands her a beer as he settles right beside her. "Curious spot you chose," he just says.

"Is it just me, or are the pretty girls just getting younger and younger?" Tamsin says back. Dyson laughs and for a moment, Tamsin's twenty-one again and meeting Dyson for the first time. "Do you remember how we met?"

"We were arrested together," he says, shaking his head. "That was a crazy night."

"And then I started dating -- who was that chick you were playing for, again?"

"Her name was Karen, and I was _not_ playing for her--it was just this _thing,_ " Dyson explains. And then, off Tamsin's smug grin, "All right. So you dated all of my vocalists, big deal."

Tamsin counted in her head -- three of her girlfriends in the last five years were all Dyson's band mates at some point. "Except one," she says, biting the tip of her tongue.

"The _current_ one," Dyson emphasizes, nudging Tamsin with an elbow. "I never understood that about you and Bo."

"Bo and I are just friends," Tamsin says, too quick to be casual.

Dyson grins at her like he knows something else. "Come on, T. I have _eyes._ "

"Whatever," she replies, shoving Dyson affectionately. "Bo's not my type."

"Hmm," Dyson says, scratching at his chin. "This is weird. You're usually good at lying, but _that_ \-- that was horrible."

" _Whatever_ , Dyson," says Tamsin, slapping Dyson's arm like she means it. "Where _is_ Bo, anyway?"

"Not exactly the best diversion I've heard, but what the hell -- Bo's flying in next week. From Bogota, if I remember correctly."

"Bogota?"

"She said she was looking for _inspiration_ ," Dyson says, punctuating his sentence with massive air quotes. "Took off with Kenzi after the tour. You know how the girls are."

Tamsin smiles at the mention of Kenzi, whom she actually liked. "I have never forgotten Kenzi's amazing riff at the end of that last song we played together," she says, only to regret the whole thing the minute it's out. Just like that, there's that tingle again, hovering just above her lips; a ghost of a kiss she wishes she had already forgotten.

"I can mention one other memorable thing from that night," says Dyson. Tamsin's smile falters slightly. "Come on, Tamsin. You were _amazing_ together."

Tamsin shakes her head, waving an unlit cigarette before Dyson's face. "That girl don't need back-up," she just says before lighting up. "When she's onstage, she's got everyone wrapped around her finger _,_ just like that."

"You included."

"Me included," Tamsin concedes. "Fucking _effortless._ "

Dyson signals for another round of beer as Tamsin smokes quietly while looking out the window. The crowd at The Dal has not thinned at all, and when Tamsin looks at her watch, it's already 2 a.m. She finds herself laughing softly, wondering where that girl has gone, the one who couldn't care less about the time.

There's an ache somewhere as she watches a group of girls stumbling out of the gate, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, their mouths open in quiet laughter. _That used to be us,_ she just thinks. She doesn't want to call this nostalgia -- that's a word for _old_ people. _So what is this, then?_

"You all right?" Dyson nudges her softly. "You seem quiet."

"Just something I remembered," Tamsin says.

Dyson shrugs. After a while, he asks: "Can I ask you something?" Tamsin only looks at him, suspicious. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"

Tamsin blinks, struggling to put a grin on. "Are you trying to pick me up, man? Because you and I both know--"

"Not what I meant," says Dyson, smiling in kind. "But are _you_? I mean, is that why you never called _any_ of the girls we met over the past couple of weeks?"

Tamsin groans, shrugging. _Oh here we fucking go again._ Truth be told, something's been quite off for a while, and Tamsin isn't ready to figure out what it is. "Technically, no."

"And here I was, thinking you had somebody waiting in _Norway._ Seriously, Tamsin -- when was the last time you actually _had_ a girlfriend?"

"Why are you even _auditing_ my relationships?" Tamsin asks, incredulous. Dyson only laughs. "Fine. Two years ago." And then, off Dyson's widened eyes, "Oh, get off it, for crying out loud. You don't get to look at me like that."

"You don't mean to say? _Really?_ Your last girlfriend was...?"

Tamsin rolls her eyes. So she broke up with her girlfriend around the same time she broke up with her band. Big deal. " _Yes,_ " she says, crushing her cigarette extra forcefully in the ash tray between them. "Quit playing the detective card on me, it's getting ridiculous."

"I'm not going all _detective_ on you," Dyson says, handing Tamsin another beer _. Well, that round went by fast_.  "I'm just--well, really surprised."

"Happy to report I can actually hold on _on my own,_ thanks for your vote of confidence."

"Come on Tams, it's just -- it's been a while, okay? Besides, you should know by now how I'm kind of invested in your _love life._ "

"Well," Tamsin tilts her head, smiling more easily now. "Considering I dated nearly all of your female band mates, I guess you've somewhat earned that right, yeah."

There's a semi-quiet moment when the laughter just settles above them like that, easy and undisturbed, until Dyson clears his throat. "I have a confession to make."

"I swear to God if you're about to say you're in love with me--"

"Bo's been asking for you," Dyson says instead.

"What?" Jolted, Tamsin feels the color drain from her face as a chill overtakes her. She's been thinking about Bo all these years, yes -- that had been the thing all along, the thing that had been off and unusual -- but well, it never really crossed her mind, that Bo could have been thinking about her, too.

That was just _not in the plan._

"Bo's been _asking_ for you, I said," Dyson repeats. "Has been, actually, for a considerable time now. I just thought I'd let you know."

 "What did I do?" Tamsin says, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying to make light of it. "Do I owe her or something?"

"I don't know," Dyson just says. "Do you?"

Tamsin just looks at him before downing the rest of her beer. She hadn't been paying attention to their drinks -- the conversation has been long, and by now, there are already about a dozen bottles lined up along the window .

"Wow. Who did this?" she asks him, smiling lopsidedly as she ran her fingertips over them.

Dyson just turns to her and says, "I think it's about time you get back out there."

"Everybody should get back out there, if you ask me," she answers. Dyson shrugs, tossing the pack of cigarettes her way. "Seriously, must you insist on hooking me up with _everyone_ every time we go out?"

Dyson laughs. "I wasn't talking about setting you up." Tamsin just rolls her eyes. "I'm talking about singing with us."

Tamsin narrows her eyes at him. "You already _have_ a singer." Dyson laughs, and Tamsin elbows him in the chest. "Weren't you there the _last time_ Bo and I shared a stage?"

"Wasn't I there? _Wasn't I there?_ " Dyson's laughing and spreading his arms dramatically while holding on to his beer. "I don't think anybody's _ever_ forgotten that night, Tam-Tam."

 _Yeah,_ Tamsin just thinks. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, she can still see that night in her head like it were just yesterday. _Neither have I._

*


	2. stadium love

Bo's flight arrives at 5 in the morning, and Dyson drags Tamsin out of bed and into her truck to get to the airport in time.  
   
"What the actual _fuck_ , man," Tamsin groans, tossing the keys over to Dyson. "Weren't we just, like, _drinking_ a few hours ago?"  
   
Dyson fires up the engine and backs out of Tamsin's garage. "Sorry Tams, my car's down and you're the only one I got here, remember?"  
   
Tamsin glares at him. She hadn't been in bed for more than three hours before Dyson came barging in. "You are so gonna owe me," she just says, rubbing her temple as she leaned her forehead against the passenger side window. The streets are still dark and quiet, and at the back of her head, Tamsin  ponders the chances of driving past an open diner for a cup of coffee, at the very least.  
   
"Promise to get you coffee later."  
   
"And pancakes," Tamsin adds crankily. "Coffee AND pancakes."  
   
"Whatever you want, princess," Dyson just says, turning into the highway.  
   
Tamsin is too sleepy to protest. _Later_ , she just thinks. _I'll get you fucking later._  
   
*  
   
When Tamsin wakes, they're already parked, and the sun's already up. The truck smells like coffee, which pleases her.  
   
"Dyson?" she calls out, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. When she looks out the window, there are two figures leaning against the hood. " _Kenzi_?"  
   
"Hey chica," Kenzi greets, cheery in a way that Tamsin finds nearly impossible to pull off after long flights. "And how was your beauty sleep?"  
   
"So-so," Tamsin shrugs, taking the coffee that Dyson offers her way. "Could have had it better, had Dyson here driven more smoothly."  
   
"Would have been smoother had it not been your _truck_ ," Dyson shoots back.  
   
"Whatever babe," Kenzi says, in a way that somehow addresses the both of them. Tamsin finds it amusing, at best. "I am liking your bedhead, girl."  
   
"Well," Tamsin grins, touching her hair tentatively. "Probably due for a cut, no? It's in that awkward space _again_ , and I don't know, what do you think?" Beside her, she can feel Dyson sighing and rolling his eyes. "Hey, _you_ practically dragged me out here."  
   
"I was not even saying anything," Dyson counters.  
   
"You should grow your hair out," Kenzi says, reaching out to touch it. "Yep, you should definitely. You'd probably rock some highlights--"  
   
"Hey there, stranger."  
   
Something cold clutches at Tamsin's chest. There's no mistaking that voice -- she'd know it anywhere.  She tries to keep her hand from trembling as she drinks her coffee. She's not awake enough yet for _this_.  
   
"Sorry to interrupt," Bo says again, tone warmer and more familiar as she slides in next to Tamsin. Compared to the early morning chill, Bo's skin is all too warm, and Tamsin feels nearly scalded. "What were you guys saying again?"  
   
Kenzi, mercifully, cuts in. "She was just talking about getting her hair cut."  
   
"You're always talking about Tamsin's hair," says Bo, and all of it still jars Tamsin -- Bo this close. Bo being here. How is this girl even real? "Not that I don't see why. You're looking pretty good, Tam. How have you been?"  
   
Tamsin resists stealing a glance at Dyson; tells herself, _I got this_. She rolls her shoulders and makes a show out of stretching her coffee-free hand. "Peachy," she says in the cheeriest way she could muster. Bo just looks on, waiting for the rest of the sentence. "A bit hungover from the early call time. Nothing like being dragged out of bed at 3 in the morning."  
   
Bo laughs, touching Tamsin's forearm lightly before reaching over to shove Dyson. "You didn't have to do that."  
   
Dyson laughs along. "Not like I had a choice. My car's out. At least Tamsin's truck moves. Right, Tamsin?"  
   
Tamsin turns her head, and when she catches Dyson's eye, she can see how's he's giving her an out. _Thank fuck for your mercy,_ she just thinks, pushing herself off the side of the truck and finishing the rest of her coffee before discarding the cup in the back of her truck. "Pardon this exit but I'm pretty beat," she says, forcing a yawn. "I mean, aren't you?"  
   
"Actually," says Kenzi, and Tamsin just loves her more for it. "I could use a shower."  
   
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually miss my apartment," says Bo. "Any plans for today, babe?"  
   
Tamsin blinks. "What?" _What did you just call me?_ "Nothing, I meant -- nothing interesting. I'm probably as jet lagged as you are," she says, climbing into the back of the truck. "Been a rough few days."  
   
"We should have dinner or something," says Bo, and beside her, Kenzi makes a small sound that sounds like endorsement. Kenzi climbs into the front seat beside Dyson, and just like that, Tamsin's sharing the back of the truck with Bo.  
   
 _Fine_ , Tamsin thinks, arranging herself beside her window. "Maybe," she says, trying not to sound too excited. "If I wake in time later, why not."  
   
"Whenever you're free, then," says Bo, leaning against her window in kind. There's a small space between them that neither of them touches. "Where did you go?"  
   
"Norway," Tamsin says, as casually as possible. "Far but pretty. How was Bogota?"  
   
"As _inspiring_ as we thought it would be," Bo says. Her laugh is laced with exhaustion. "And far too hot. 36 degrees, wasn't it Kenz?"  
  
Kenzi hums, fanning herself. "Ridiculous, Tam-Tam. You'd probably be all pink and blushy all the time.”  
  
“I do _not_ blush,” she tries to counter, struggling to keep her grin in. It’s been a while since she felt this way – like she _belonged_ someplace. She wonders briefly where the rest of her band had gone, before crushing the thought altogether. _Not now._  
  
“I bet you would have loved it there,” says Bo, touching Tamsin in the arm so lightly that Tamsin would have missed it entirely, had she not been already ultra-aware of Bo’s body to begin with. Her touch is warm, yet Tamsin shivers anyway, and Bo pulls back in reaction. “Are you okay?”  
  
Tamsin sighs. “Just tired.”  
  
“Rest well then,” Bo says, reaching for her again. Tamsin tries not to make a big deal of it, the way Bo wraps her hand around Tamsin’s right on the backseat; tries to keep her shivers and shudders in check all the way home.


	3. soft rock star

 

Tamsin tries avoiding the bunch for the first week, until Dyson shows up at her door one Friday morning. “You haven’t returned any of my messages,” is how he greets her when Tamsin comes around to opening it.

Tamsin groans. “Sorry,” she says, ushering Dyson in. “Just that – a lot of things in my hands. Or head. Or whatever.”

Dyson steps in, looking at her steadily with his arms folded in front of his chest. “Tamsin. When are you coming to dinner?”

_Dinner._ Tamsin feels her stomach drop slightly. She’d been dreading the follow-up on that. “Gee, I don’t know. My sched’s pretty packed.”

“With what? Cereal?” Dyson asks, smirking as he lifts an empty box of cornflakes off the kitchen counter.

“ _Dyson_.”

“Bo wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, okay?” he says. “Just – fucking do it, Tams, what’s the matter with you? It’s just dinner.”

“Oh come _on,_ Dyson. You know what I’m about to get into.” Dyson grows quiet after that, eyes glued to the cereal box. “I’m not up for this shit – not _yet_.”

Dyson sighs, shaking his head as he makes his way to the door. “Well, if you ever, you know – manage to get over your band-ache or something – call me, okay?” And before Tamsin could say anything or make any promises, Dyson’s already out the door.

_Band-ache,_ she repeats in her head. Dyson’s ridiculously spot-on, and it hurts – and not just a little.

*

Three days later, Tamsin decides to call Dyson. “Fine. I’m done.” She makes the phone call at noon, and spends the next four hours just figuring out what to wear. _Oh, you are so fucked, Tamsin,_ she just thinks, swapping jackets for the nth time.

Dyson rolls around in his newly revamped sedan just around sunset. “Get in, loser,” he tells her affectionately, and Tamsin only sticks her tongue out in response. “You ready?”

“Only one way to find out,” she only says.

Truth be told, Tamsin is nervous. She has the vaguest idea of what may or may not happen, but basically: Being around Bo makes her so giddy, it’s _frightening._ The quiet drive in Dyson’s car does not help the least bit, either.

“Where are we going?” Tamsin asks, unable to take the silence any longer.

Dyson smiles at her and only says, “You’ll see.”

Soon enough, Dyson turns into a familiar corner, and Tamsin blinks. “You took me to The Dal,” she only says, disbelieving. Dyson parks up front and kills his engine before looking expectedly at Tamsin. “Here, really?” Tamsin asks, looking at her watch. “I don’t think they open until about 10, and it isn’t even 7.”

Dyson laughs. “Not a problem if you actually own the place, hm?” he says. Tamsin’s eyes grow wide as her lips go dry.

“You’re not saying,” she manages to cough out.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” says Dyson, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Tamsin sees him dial for Bo, and she tries not to imagine what she’s wearing to this night. _Oh no,_ she breathes in. _No, no, no._ That’s where all the trouble starts, Tamsin knows. The trouble starts in what Bo’s wearing.

*

True to form, Bo’s wearing a low-cut blouse – lower than the last one Tamsin remembers, and there’s very little Tamsin could do to not look, considering Bo’s even taken the trouble to wear a _necklace._

_This woman,_ Tamsin only thinks, looking away, hands shoved in pockets.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Bo calls, and _now_ Tamsin has to look. “Come in, Kenzi’s just prepping.”

Tamsin hopes the smile she puts on is not as uncomfortable-looking as it really _feels_. “Sure,” she murmurs, walking after Bo.

The Dal looks different with all the lights on, and Tamsin is surprised to see that the floor is actually wood. It looks more like an Irish pub than anything, and between the door and the stage at the far end, there are a few tables and a small dance floor. A bar stands at the corner, housing a small DJ booth.

“A pretty neat place you got here,” Tamsin says, following Bo into a small ante room past the bar. It’s a low-ceilinged room where all the wine are, and Tamsin smirks at the sight of Kenzi smoothing out napkins in the corner.

“My grandfather runs it,” says Bo, pulling a chair and motioning for Tamsin to sit.

Kenzi looks up from her napkins and brightens up, considerably. “Thank God you’re already here,” she says, throwing down the napkin she’s holding. “I was starting to think I was _enjoying_ folding the napkins.”

“Actually, it kind of looked like it,” Tamsin teases, and Kenzi throws on a shocked look that completely cracks Tamsin up.

“If you weren’t looking so fab right now, I’d totally be offended,” says Kenzi. “Loving your jacket. You always have the gorgeous ones.”

Tamsin shrugs, smiling smugly. If there’s anything she takes pride in, it’s her jacket collection. If she were the shopping sort of woman, she’d totally offer to shop with Kenzi – only she really isn’t. “Cool boots,” she counters.

“Got them on sale in Hong Kong,” Kenzi beams. “Likey?”

“Like..y,” Tamsin replies, uncertain whether she used the word correctly. “Where’s Dyson?”

“Emergency errand,” Bo cuts in, handing a glass of wine each to Tamsin and Kenzi. “Sorry about that. I thought we still had ice.”

Kenzi sips some of her wine before grimacing. “Aw shit,” she says, slapping her forehead and quickly pulling out her phone from a back pocket. “I hope he hasn’t gone far,” she just says, walking out the room without looking back, and just like that, Tamsin’s alone with Bo in a table for four, a bottle of wine between them.

_Shit,_ she breathes in, trying to sip slowly.

*

The silence is awkward. Tamsin’s never good at that, and sitting there trying _not_ to look at where Bo’s blouse ended at the most admirable spot on her chest is at best torturous.

“Are you all right?” Bo asks finally. “More wine?”

Tamsin bites her lip. “I honestly think I need something stronger tonight.”

“This makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” Bo asks. There’s a seriousness to her tone that Tamsin can’t decipher, until Bo gives in to a smile. “I was only teasing, Tam. Are you really—”

“I’m fine,” Tamsin lies. She finishes her wine, looking at Bo over the rim. “I’ll just have more of what you’re having.” Bo stands and picks the bottle up, transferring to the seat nearer to Tamsin. _Here we go._

“Dyson told me you’re a free agent these days,” Bo says as she pours. _Well, that escalated quickly,_ Tamsin thinks. “Any chance you’d want to hook up with us? I could use an extra _hand_.”

Tamsin’s thankful to not have been drinking then; it would have been embarrassing to end up choking. “Too soon,” she just says, her chest pounding. “It just—”

“I can wait,” Bo says immediately, before: “I mean. I mean we – Dyson, Kenzi and I. We can wait. Take all the time you need.”

_You backed yourself into this corner_ , Tamsin tells herself. “Let’s see,” she says. And then, picking the now empty bottle up, she adds: “Looks like we’re onto the next bottle.”

“Your choice,” Bo says, standing to get back to the bar.

“Something harder,” Tamsin replies, and she can swear, in that split-second she sees Bo’s eyes flicker a darker shade.

 *

On their third round of tequila, Bo starts talking about the tour and a bit about Bogota. “Tour was fucking tiring,” she begins, and Tamsin sits back, letting the taste of lime settle on her tongue, the burn slowly leaving her throat. “But it’s a good kind of fucking tiring, do you ever get that tired? Watching people falling all over themselves just to get closer – what a fucking high. All that power, being in a room like that – it’s like you’re sucking in everybody’s energy to power through to the final set.”

Tamsin tries not to look too nostalgic – there are things she still remembers so well, and playing before a crowd has always been a favourite memory.  Save for the slight twinge in her heart, Tamsin feels fine. “Yeah, I get you,” she says, pouring another round.

By the fifth round, Tamsin’s talking about their band break-up. “It happened right after that benefit gig,” she says, and Bo just quirks a brow to register her surprise. “It was coming, anyway. It was just a matter of time.”

“What was the final straw?” asks Bo softly.

Tamsin looks away, then downs her shot. It’s the most bitter it’s been. “Kissing you,” she says, finally. “There, now that _that’s_ out of the way.”

Bo looks at her confusedly before taking her shot in kind. Bo hisses and shakes her head, grabbing a lemon off the plate between them. “No shit,” she says afterwards, grabbing at the edge of the table to steady herself.

“Easy,” Tamsin murmurs, tentatively brushing her fingertip against Bo’s hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s done,” says Tamsin, waving her hand as if dismissing it. She grabs the bottle to pour another round – Tamsin’s already lost count.

“I didn’t know it would have been that big a deal,” says Bo, rubbing at her forehead. “I wouldn’t have—”

“Oh please,” Tamsin cuts in, smiling. The tequila has her feeling bold and unstoppable. “You _would_ have.”

Bo looks wryly into her still-full shot glass. “You’re probably right,” she admits softly before taking her shot. And then, “I’m sorry. It was never my intention.”

“As I’ve said—it’s all done. I’m still standing,” says Tamsin, shrugging. “Don’t think about it.”

Bo breathes out, turning her shot glass over, open rim against the table, like she were signaling: _Enough._ “Is that why you’re not singing anymore?”

“In part,” Tamsin admits. “Why are you so keen on having me on anyway? Have you seen yourself onstage? You’re amazing on your own, I don’t know—”

“Have _you_ seen yourself on stage?” Bo interrupts, leaning closer to the table. “Have you seen _us_?”

Truth be told, there are times when it is all Tamsin sees whenever she closes her eyes: She and Bo on that stage together, their sweaty bodies inches apart, the heat off their skins overwhelming, the sound all around, bouncing off the walls and the floor. Whenever she wants to remember a moment when she felt the most alive, Tamsin points to _that_ moment. (It was the beginning; it was the end.)

“Have you _seen us_ , Tamsin?” Bo asks again, this time pushing herself off her seat and settling down right beside Tamsin, the closest they’ve been all night. “We were _glorious._ ”

“Was that why you kissed me?” Tamsin tries to look Bo straight in the eye; people said it’s just what brave girls did. Tamsin figures it’s the best time to be brave, more than anything.

“Yes,” Bo says after a long quiet moment, and when she licks her lips, Tamsin can’t look away. “I mean, I just – sometimes, you just come running into something, you know? I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Tamsin almost laughs at that—almost, if she were not actually busy reminding herself to keep breathing. Tamsin still remembers clearly the weight of Bo against her that night, the force of her running kiss, the warmth of her skin under the thin cloth of her blouse, the energy wrapped around them both. “Who could have,” she just says back.

“Yeah,” Bo just says, toying absently with her empty shot glass in one hand. “I don’t expect you to change your mind now, you know.” Bo lays a hand on Tamsin’s thigh, and even if this is all she’s getting tonight, Tamsin thinks she’s got more than enough. “Just—think about it.”

Tamsin tries not to push Bo’s hand off her – mostly because she’s afraid it will come off rude. She says nothing, even as Bo’s touch feels like it’s burning a hole right through Tamsin’s pants. “If it’s any consolation,” she says, finding a way to shift in her seat, and Bo finally realizes where her hand had been and promptly retracts it. “I’m already this close to saying yes.”

Bo smiles, reaching out to Tamsin again, more certain this time as she hangs on to Tamsin’s wrist. _This isn’t happening,_ Tamsin thinks. It comes to her then, why she had put this off for so long: _We knew it was going to end this way._ I _knew._

“We play here every Wednesday night; it’s a pretty chill crowd,” Bo offers, and Tamsin allows herself to relax in her hold.

Tamsin flexes her fingers out of habit, tapping at the table. “Been a long time,” she just says. “I’m a bit rusty.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bo laughs; it sounds more relaxed this time around, like a weight has lifted, finally. She picks her shot glass off the table and turns it back up. “We still have tequila.”

Tamsin eyes her; her vision blurs a little with Bo this close. “We should save some for Kenzi and Dyson,” says Tamsin, smiling in kind.

“Trust me when I say we don’t really have to,” Bo says, taking the bottle from Tamsin’s grip. “In case it has escaped your notice – we have an entire _bar_ at our disposal.”

Tamsin leans back, looking past Bo and eyeing the shelves. _Oh, fuck it then,_ she thinks. “Now that it has been properly brought to my attention,” she begins. “Do we do this alphabetically or what?”


	4. rock me now

When Wednesday comes along, Tamsin finds herself _this_ close to throwing her phone away. “For the nth time, Dyson—” 

“Has _Dyson_ been badgering you? Hey Dyson—not cool, bro.”

Tamsin smiles to herself, checking her face in the mirror, phone pinned between ear and shoulder. “ _Kenzi,_ ” she greets. “I’ll be down in a _minute_.”

“Not trying to cramp your style babe,” says Kenzi, and Tamsin can hear her _hitting_ things. Poor Dyson. “Just that Dyson here’s having a little anxiety attack.”

“I’m _going_ , okay, you don’t have to check on me every fifteen minutes,” Tamsin says. When she looks out her window, she spots Dyson’s car parked across the street. _Well, I did say, ‘Pick me up at six-thirty.’_ Tamsin has always preferred an early sound-check. Should teach kids these days a thing or two. “Is Bo with you?”

“Headed straight to the venue. Said she’d meet us there.”

“Good,” says Tamsin, closing her eyes. She hasn’t heard from Bo since that night they decimated at least half the bar, and truth be told, she barely remembers anything after Bo opened the bottle of absinthe. “I see Dyson’s car from up here. I’ll meet you in a sec.”

“Hey—I see you too!” And with that, Kenzi cuts the line and proceeds to wave at her instead. _Fucking lunatics,_ Tamsin thinks, waving right back anyway, smiling all the way to the door.

*

“Your hands are cold,” says Bo, greeting Tamsin at the door. The Dal looks a bit different now with the stage all set up – looks a bit more _daunting_. “You can’t be nervous.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it – now I’m _really_ nervous,” says Tamsin, pulling her hand from Bo’s and pushing it in a pocket. The place is pleasantly warm and Tamsin shrugs out of her jacket upon entry. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I haven’t played in eons.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Bo says, hand on the small of Tamsin’s back giving the girl a little nudge toward the stage. “Like you’ll ever forget this. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

Tamsin smiles tightly, walking up the stage and reaching for the bass sitting in the middle. “Only I don’t ride a bicycle,” she says, slinging it on. She looks around, taking in the sight of the empty bar. She glances at the clock hanging over the bar. _In five hours, this place will be bursting at the seams,_ she thinks. She gives a string a tentative pluck and is surprised to hear how solid the sound is, bouncing off the walls.

“Likey?” Bo asks, standing beside her, their bare shoulders touching. Tamsin breathes in and tries to keep her eyes steady and staring ahead. _You know how this would go, right?_

“Likey,” Tamsin says, rolling her shoulders and testing the weight of the instrument in her hands, like it were a completely alien thing. “The acoustics of this place – it’s fantastic.”

Bo shrugs. She’s still so close that Tamsin can _feel_ her shoulders move. Tamsin tries to step to the side, but she finds herself glued to her spot. _Maybe a little vodka before the first set,_ she just thinks.

“I love it too,” says Bo, before gesturing to both ends of the stage. “It isn’t much, but I suppose you’d want to move a little later on.”

_I can barely move now,_ Tamsin thinks, biting her tongue. “Let’s see if my nervous limbs can handle it.”

“Oh come on, T,” Bo turns to her, smiling as she casually touches Tamsin’s cheek. _Better check for burns later._ Tamsin does not breathe; she can’t. “In case you need reminding – you are _amazing._ ” Bo’s hand lingers far too long, and there’s little Tamsin can do to resist it. _You know how this is going to end, right?_

“Anyway,” Bo continues, breaking the moment herself. “Let’s do a test drive, shall we?”

On cue, Dyson starts a beat at the back, and Kenzi joins in tentatively. Tamsin shuts her eyes upon recognition—it’s that song from their last gig. _These bitches._

“Oh, you know this one don’t you?” Bo just says, sliding her hand slowly from Tamsin’s cheek, tracing a faint line down the side of her neck and off her shoulder. “Remember this one?” Bo looks at her, biting down on her lip as she moves away. Tamsin tries not to shudder.

 “From the beginning until the _very_ end,” Tamsin replies, looking over at Dyson with a knowing smirk. “Let’s do this.”

*

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tamsin looks out one more time from back stage, feeling the hole in her gut grow a couple of inches wider. “The room wasn’t _that_ big during sound check earlier, was it?”

“ _Relaaaax_ ,” Kenzi shushes her, fixing her hair. “It’s always like this on Wednesdays.”

Tamsin finds herself laughing at Kenzi’s unidentifiable fake accent. “I could use a drink,” she says. Kenzi waves an imaginary wand and curtsies before disappearing into the anteroom, nearly bumping into Dyson, who was on his way out.

“You alright, Tam-Tam?” asks Dyson, hands in his pockets. “What was that about?”

“Kenzi’s trying to get me to _relax_ ,” Tamsin says, sighing. “I guess she’s off getting vodka or something.”

“Should do you some good,” says Dyson. “You still got it, you know? Sound check was fantastic.”

Tamsin finds herself smiling. She hasn’t felt that _good_ in years – and it isn’t even just about Bo, to begin with. “It was, wasn’t it?” she just says, looking out. It’s nearly midnight and The Dal is packed with people dancing to music that an unseen DJ is playing. _Should check where the music is coming from,_ Tamsin reminds herself. Right now, she’s still too nervous to be curious.

“You clearly haven’t lost your touch,” says Dyson.

“Babe is clearly on _fi-ire,_ ” Kenzi chimes in, handing out bottles of beer. “For your nerves, tender souls,” she just says, initiating a toast.

The beer goes down easy, and for a split-second there Tamsin almost feels _invincible_. “Thanks for your votes of confidence,” she says. The DJ shifts to a fast track and the crowd lets out a collective _whoop_ at the tune. _Whoever’s mixing must know her crowd_ , Tamsin thinks, absently tapping her boots to the beat. “Where’s the DJ at?” she asks, leaning in closer to Kenzi so she can hear.

Kenzi takes a swig before pointing to an LCD mounted on a wall. “Upstairs,” she says. It takes some time before Tamsin figures out what she’s looking at: It’s the top view of the DJ booth taken by a CCTV, and Tamsin is pleased to find that the DJ is a girl. “She prefers the mezzanine booth to the one in the bar. Keeps her away from drunk boys.”

“I see,” says Tamsin, finishing her beer. “And she knows you’re watching her backstage via CCTV?”

“Oh, this is totally legit,” says Kenzi. “We can actually buzz her in the intercom if we want, but Lauren gets a bit cranky when interrupted.”

_Lauren,_ Tamsin notes. _Should be useful later on._ “And she’s been mixing here for a long time?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” shrugs Kenzi, eyes glued on the screen. “She’s actually half of why The Dal’s this packed on a weeknight. She treats her music like it’s a _science_ , or something. She’s amazing.”

“Not  to mention—quite the looker,” says Tamsin.

“Have you seen those _guns_ , man,” Kenzi says. “Unfuckingbelievable. I don’t know how she manages to work out with that schedule.”

“That in demand huh?”

Kenzi looks at her, aghast like she were supposed to know an all-too-obvious truth. “Technically. That one’s a _doctor_ , right there.”

Tamsin’s thankful she isn’t drinking anything at the moment, because that would have been a mess. _Now I have truly seen everything._ “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I am fucking not.”

“Who’s fucking what where?” Dyson clears his throat to disguise his laugh as Bo walks into their pow-wow and takes her place alongside Kenzi. “And what are we looking at here?”

“Just the DJ,” Kenzi tells Bo, who then leans into the intercom to buzz her.

Tamsin watches the CCTV feed as Lauren pulls off her headset with a hint of annoyance, reaching over the side to answer. Her mouth opens and after a two-second lag, her static-laced voice fills the air.

“Kind of busy here, about to finish up,” she says.

“Great set so far doc,” Bo says into the intercom, and Tamsin hears the unmistakable flirty tone there that she cannot process just yet. “Careful or you’ll burn the place down.”

“Thanks Bo,” says Lauren, tone relaxing. “One more song before I’m out and you’re up.”

“You should stick around and watch us,” Bo says, looking at Tamsin as she speaks. _What the fuck is she on, and how is this all happening all at once?_ Tamsin thinks, realizing what Bo’s doing—which is, basically, flirting with two people at the same time. _Christ._ Tamsin shifts to her other leg before looking away. Suddenly, it is growing hotter where she’s standing.

“I probably will,” Lauren responds, and it snaps Tamsin out of it. “Heard you’ve got a surprise lined up.”

“Stay and find out,” Bo says. “Catch you later.” The music gets a bit louder as Bo lets go of the intercom and walks toward Tamsin. “You ready?”

Tamsin breathes in, shaking her shoulders for effect. “More or less.”

“You were amazing earlier – _in case_ you need reminding,” says Bo, touching Tamsin’s hip lightly. “Also, you should meet Lauren. I think you’ll like her.”

Tamsin bites her lip. “I think everybody likes her,” she says. “I think _you_ like her.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your jealous streak is showing,” Bo smiles, all teeth. She’s standing so close that Tamsin has to actively restrain herself from pulling her closer and kissing her.

The moment is broken by applause as Lauren winds down her set. “Our cue, ladies,” Dyson steps in, hand heavy on Tamsin’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Bo turns to her, eyes glowing. “Ready, T?”

“Let’s set this place on fire,” Tamsin says, chest pounding.

*

It’s every bit as daunting as Tamsin expected it to be.

Bo goes up the stage first, greets the crowd as she secures her place before the microphone, the audience quieting down to listen. “As you’ve probably figured out by now, we’re playing a special set tonight.”

The crowd erupts in cheers as Tamsin steps into the light and adjusts her guitar straps. When she looks out, the light is initially blinding, but when her eyes adjust well enough, she sees everyone looking right back. She lowers her gaze to her strings and smiles to herself. _Jesus, this feeling never gets old._

“So how about we start with an old favorite,” Bo says, turning to her and nodding. Tamsin recognizes it as her signal and begins.

_This is going to be such a night,_ she just thinks, letting herself be taken.

*

Somewhere halfway through the third song, Tamsin completely loses herself into the thing, immersed in Dyson’s tempo and Kenzi’s riffs, all these dizzying lights, the smoke hanging low from the ceiling and the taste of beer in her mouth; that intoxicating sound of the crowd singing along and moving against each other.

Tamsin feels herself go on hyperdrive as Bo pulls her in for their duet; it isn’t totally unplanned, but then, Tamsin’s just never ready for Bo, not when she’s this close, and for a moment there, her voice is stuck in her throat.

“Your turn babe,” Bo whispers, lips too close it’s almost a kiss against Tamsin’s ear, and Tamsin barely manages to pull herself together just in time to sing out without missing a beat. When she tries to look over at Kenzi, she tries to give her a thumbs-up sign the first moment she can manage the gesture, and Dyson only gives her an approving growl.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” murmurs Bo during the brief in-between, moving close to Tamsin to hand her a bottle of water.  The place is getting steadily hotter to the point of becoming dizzying, and Tamsin takes a huge swig to keep her eyes focused. “Two more songs?”

“I could do this all night,” Tamsin only replies, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

*

They end up doing three more songs for the encore, and Tamsin thinks, _What a feeling._ Bo segues into the added set smoothly and Dyson goes in after her, setting the beat so furiously that Tamsin looks back to check that he hasn’t broken any of his sticks just yet.

Kenzi walks over to Tamsin, laughing into her ear and asking, “Can you fucking believe this crowd?”

Tamsin only shakes her head in response, smiling widely. When she looks over at Bo, she finds her totally focused with a hand stretched out, body moving lithely under the swirling lights. _Everything’s unbelievable,_ she just thinks. Already it feels like many, many hours later and Tamsin’s surprised to still be standing, herself.


	5. blindness

 

The crowd hangs on until the very end of their last song and Tamsin has almost forgotten how good it feels to strike that last note to this thunderous sound. Bo waves to the crowd and yells a final _Thank you_ into the microphone before the lights go out. It is only when she unhooks herself from her guitar finally that Tamsin realizes how sore her shoulders are – a sweet ache, anyhow, and nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix, she thinks.

“Great set, guys. Glad I stayed.” When Tamsin looks over, she recognizes the woman entering the ante room to be that DJ from earlier.

“Lauren,” Bo calls to her, walking over to give her a lingering hug. Tamsin looks away, suddenly uncomfortable and out of place.  “Glad you enjoyed. _Also_ ,” Bo says, breaking from the hug and gesturing for Tamsin with an outstretched arm. “I believe you haven’t met Tamsin. 

Lauren turns to her, smiling kindly and extending a hand. “I believe I haven’t,” she says. “Lauren Lewis.”

“Tamsin.” It’s kind of awkward – been a while since Tamsin’s had to shake _anyone’s_ hand so formally upon introduction, having grown used to just nodding at people in acknowledgement or tapping their shoulders in dimly lit bars.

Thankfully, Kenzi comes around distributing bottles of beer. “Celebratory drinks all around,” she says, and right now, Tamsin’s just glad to be holding onto anything but Lauren’s hand.

“To Tamsin’s first night with the wolf pack,” says Dyson, raising his newly opened beer.

“The first of _many_ , we’re hoping,” Bo adds, touching Tamsin’s shoulder lightly. “Thanks for coming out tonight. It has truly been a _pleasure_.”

_Pleasure._ Tamsin rolls the word around in her mouth; it tastes like strawberries, all sweet and _sting_. Tamsin tries not to flinch at the thought.

“ _Woo-_ hoo,” Kenzi howls, chiming in, and Tamsin only shakes her head. She remembers her beer and sips from it.

“No promises,” Tamsin says, breathing out and putting on a shaky smile. The whole thing has her still literally _vibrating_ – she can still feel the tremble of the speakers in her fingertips. _Best kind of high anywhere._ “Though really – I could get used to _this_.”

From where she’s now standing, Bo raises her drink as a gesture of approval. She’s leaning against the mini-bar along one of the ante room’s walls, Lauren right beside her, nursing her own drink in her hand. They’re standing so close and occasionally talking very softly; the sight of it does something strange to Tamsin’s gut.

“You all right?” asks Dyson, who approaches her after what could only have been a long moment of consideration. When she looks at him, he’s also looking at _them_. “You do know that Bo and Lauren, they’re...”

“An item. Of course,” says Tamsin, sighing. Inwardly, she wants to hit herself. Had she really expected a girl as beautiful as Bo to be single? The phrase that comes to mind is: _Too late._

“Not technically,” Dyson interrupts, and just like that Tamsin feels her stomach plummet, like she were riding a roller coaster that had a sudden, surprise dip.

“Are we looking at the _same_ Bo and Lauren?” she asks, finishing her beer and setting the empty bottle down on a nearby chair. Right then, Bo starts laughing at something Lauren’s saying, casually touching Lauren’s bare arm every now and then. Tamsin feels her mouth go dry. Immediately, her hands start itching for another drink. “Because I don’t know how else _being an item_ is supposed to look like.”

Dyson laughs softly, lowering his eyes to the floor. “True,” he just says. “Though as you must have figured out by now, Bo doesn’t exactly like playing by any sort of _rules_.”

_Oh._ Tamsin feels her eyes get wider. _That explains a lot of things._ Unfortunately, however, the revelation does little to quell the confusion that has begun swirling around in her chest. “I see,” she says, swallowing. “I think I need another drink.” 

Right on cue, Kenzi comes around with two more bottles of beer. “Alcohol for our newly jealous spirits, I assume?”

Dyson smiles. “Shut up Kenzi and join us,” he says, motioning to the sight that he and Tamsin had been staring at all night.

“If I were a betting sort of woman,” Kenzi begins, leaning slightly against Tamsin.

“What are we betting on?” Tamsin asks.

“Which one would break your heart harder.” 

Tamsin coughs, choking slightly on her beer. _Kenzi’s saying what?_ “You’re ridiculous, Kenz,” she manages. “Though I am curious as to who _actually_ would have your money.”

Kenzi tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes like she were considering her options carefully. _Really? It’s that hard to guess?_ Tamsin thinks. “I think,” Kenzi says finally, pausing to take a swig before continuing. “It’s kind of too early to tell.”

Tamsin only laughs out loud at that, if only to hide her terror. _What if Kenzi knows something I don’t?_ she asks herself, eyes shifting rapidly from Bo’s lips to Lauren’s arm and back. _Oh no,_ she thinks, shaking her head. _No, no, no._ Again, this is where trouble usually starts.

 *

It’s five a.m. when they finish closing for the night, and Kenzi helps Dyson load the instruments into the back of his car. Tamsin sits in one of the corner chairs, leg propped on a side table, watching Bo and Lauren discuss something she cannot hear, gesturing with their hands in the air. She decided she’d already had one drink too many a couple of tequila shots ago, but just looking at them be this way – comfortable and familiar – kind of makes her want to have some more. _Get a grip, Tamsin,_ she tells herself, looking around the now empty hall.

Tamsin forces herself to breathe in – the place still smells of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes and dancing, and it puts an absent smile on Tamsin’s face.

“A good night, yes?” When Tamsin looks to see who it is, she finds Lauren already standing closer, alone. “Sorry to interrupt – looked like you were having a good time just remembering.”

Tamsin shrugs, immediately _fixing_ her face. Something about Lauren makes her feel a mix of insecurity and shyness. “Yeah, well – been a while since I last played for a good crowd. One of the best feelings in the world.”

“So I’ve been told, time and again,” Lauren says, smiling. “You know, after that benefit gig, I was sure you’d go on tour with them.”

Tamsin tries not to let on that she is surprised – surprised that Lauren had _seen_ that gig in the first place, and that she thought Tamsin was good enough to go on tour with Bo. “Far too long ago, hmm?” she just says, her smile tight.

“Why didn’t you?” asks Lauren, her voice soft. Tamsin feels herself relax slightly, despite the warning in her head. “Just out of curiosity. I can’t turn this fucking science brain off, you know.”

That gets Tamsin laughing. “I heard you were a doctor,” Tamsin diverts, and Lauren laughs along, pushing her hands into both pockets.

“That I am,” says Lauren. “I’m off duty now, though.” And then, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Always focused on the answers,” Tamsin grins. “Let’s just say I didn’t think I was cut out for that touring _lifestyle_.”

Lauren nods, considering her answer. “So goes the official press release,” she says. Tamsin laughs harder. _Is it the alcohol, or is she just such a conversationalist?_ “Unofficially, though?”

“There is no unofficial statement, doc,” Tamsin shakes her head, trying to put her sincerest smile on. “I swear.”

Lauren raises her hand, and for a moment they share a round of wordless laughter, something Tamsin honestly enjoys. They are still laughing when Bo emerges from the bathrooms and approaches them.

“Is everybody all right?” she asks tentatively, looking around with a misplaced concern in her face, and Lauren just starts laughing harder at the sight. Tamsin looks away, biting her lip to stop herself.

“Of course,” says Lauren, wiping at her eyes. “We were just getting _acquainted_.”

Bo’s look of concern turns into a look of someone who is clearly pleased with the turn of events. “Glad to see you’re getting along fine.”

“We are,” Tamsin says. “Surprising, granted that it’s five in the morning, but we are.”

“All packed and good to go,” Dyson calls out from the door. “You coming Tam?”

Tamsin’s about to answer when Bo touches her wrist. “We could—Lauren and I could—” Bo’s looking at her with an expression that Tamsin initially finds difficult to read given the hour, and all of it is complicated by the burning sensation that her fingertips are tracing along the underside of Tamsin’s forearm. “ _Right_ , Lauren?”

Lauren breathes out and says, “Absolutely. We could totally. Yes.” Tamsin shifts from Bo to Lauren and back to Bo, and right then, it _hits_ her, with the force of a hundred trucks: Tamsin thinks about how she is neither blind nor deaf to possibly miss the barely concealed _intent_ that is wrapped around their words and—

“Tamsin,” Dyson calls again from the door.

Shaking her head, she just responds, “I’m coming.” And then, to the girls in front of her: “Maybe some other time, all right? _Enjoy_ yourselves.”

Bo breathes out, her smile steady as she lets Tamsin’s hand go, very _very_ slowly. “Oh, we _will._ ” Lauren gives a little laugh as punctuation, touching her face like she were actually _embarrassed_ , and Bo finally crosses the space between them to give Tamsin an all-too warm hug. “You try to get some sleep--all right?”

Tamsin doesn’t breathe through the hug, and it feels all too long and tight. “Try being the operative word,” she only says, breaking the hug and giving Lauren a small salute.

*

The first thing she sees upon getting out the door is Kenzi, who is leaning against the hood of Dyson’s car, clearly looking at her with judgment.

“What?” asks Tamsin and Kenzi just rolls her eyes at her, yanking the door open.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just – get in,” says Kenzi, before climbing in after her in the back seat.

Dyson adjusts the rear view mirror so he can look at the both of them. “Everybody in?”

“Tamsin only barely,” says Kenzi, and Tamsin elbows her. “I mean – did _you_ see that?”

“Amazing how Tamsin actually managed to get out of _that,_ ” Dyson laughs.

“I am sitting right _here_ ,” says Tamsin, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Can you _please_ stop talking like I’m not sitting right here.”

Kenzi ignores her. “Almost no one gets out of the infamous Bo-Lauren tag team thing. I mean, right Dyson?”

Laughing harder, Dyson leans in to start the engine. “ _Almost_ true.”

“Whatever dude,” Kenzi huffs, waving a hand in the air like she were dismissing him. Turning to Tamsin, she just says, “I _clearly_ remember a time when Dyson was totally in love with Bo _and_ Lauren, like, the _two_ of them. At the same time.”

“How many have you had tonight Kenz?” Dyson reminds her.

“Yeah, Kenz, how many – _what_ did you just say?”

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Tamsin keeps looking at her, waiting for the rest of the sentence, and Kenzi takes her time, sinking into the backseat comfortably and stretching. “Well, not that I blame him – _you_ should see Bo and Lauren, like, in full action. On stage, I meant. They make a terribly attractive tandem.”

“This is _way_ too much for this hour,” says Tamsin, pressing at the center of her forehead with the pad of her finger, trying to soothe the building headache there.

“I have a suggestion,” Kenzi says, and when Tamsin catches Dyson’s eyes in the mirror, he’s looking back at her amusedly. “Pancakes. Pancakes make everything better.”

Tamsin groans, helpless. It’s been an all too long night.


	6. sick muse

  


Predictably, Tamsin starts dreaming – it’s just what she does. Bo’s in all of them, taking her hand and leading her up a stage. _Come out and play,_ she says, silhouetted against the all-too-bright stage lights, other hand outstretched above her.

Sometimes, Lauren’s also there, looking at her, one hand holding onto her headset, the other holding onto the turntable’s edge. _There’s a science to this,_ Lauren tells her, though her lips don’t move. _It’s all there, under the skin._

It always ends when Bo starts dancing. _Your turn, babe._

When Tamsin wakes, she is sweaty and shaking.

*

“So,” Dyson says, leaning closer over the table. “Wednesday nights, hm?”

Tamsin just looks at him, fiddling with a pen. “I don’t know man,” she’s saying, just as their cups of coffee arrive. For a change, she meets Dyson for brunch in a diner with sun up and about. “I mean, the Happy Sunshine Gang’s great, but—”

“So you have a crush on Bo. So what?” says Dyson, drinking from his cup. “Hasn’t stopped anyone, has it?”

Tamsin glares at him. “Stop calling it a _thing_ ,” she tells him. “If it doesn’t have a name, it doesn’t mean anything.” And then, “So it was true then, what Kenzi was saying?”

Dyson shrugs. “Bo and Lauren – it’s just their _thing_ , okay? You shouldn’t let it bother you.”

“ _Bother_ me? Two people hitting on me at the same time – sure, it doesn’t bother me _at all_.”

“Surely you’ve had your fair share of admirers?” Dyson says, smiling. “You’ll be _fine_.”

Tamsin sinks back into her seat and looks out. It’s a perfect day – the sort Tamsin would rather spend driving around in her truck, preferably toward a place with saltwater. Instead she is here with Dyson, overanalyzing a girl. _Make that two,_ she thinks, just as they are interrupted by a plate of waffles.

 _At least, I’m spending this day with waffles,_ Tamsin thinks, poking at it tentatively with a fork. “That night, Kenzi told me she couldn’t tell which one of them would break my heart harder,” she says.

“My money’s on Bo, naturally,” Dyson says. And then, off the look on Tamsin’s face: “I was _kidding_ , T.”

Tamsin pouts, reaching for her coffee and sipping. “I can’t believe you guys are making a betting game off this,” she says.

“Oh it’s not just you,” says Dyson, as if the idea that they’ve done this before is supposed to soothe her. “We’ve _always_ done this.”

“I can’t _believe_ this is supposed to make me feel better,” Tamsin says.

“And that is why I ordered the extra special waffle with bacon inside.”

Tamsin smiles despite herself. “I still hate you, though.”

*

Dyson receives a call from Kenzi toward the end of brunch, where she’s apologizing for not being able to make it. “She says she’ll meet us at The Dal for drinks,” he says, pocketing his phone.

Tamsin looks at her watch. “It’s not even noon.”

“Kenzi doesn’t exactly follow our time zone,” Dyson says. He motions for the tab and settles it, despite Tamsin’s offer. “Besides, I doubt she’ll be able to make it out in two hours.”

“Good point,” Tamsin concedes. She fixes her stare at a faraway point in the horizon before donning her sunglasses. “This sun. I’d kill to go for a swim right now. Saltwater and sand, the works.”

Dyson opens the door for her before going over the driver’s side. “There was this hotel manager I dated once,” Dyson begins, putting on his sunglasses in kind as he restarts his engine. “I remember the pool very fondly.” He’s grinning as he lowers the windows, reaching for the cigarettes in his glove compartment.

Tamsin lets out a little laugh. “Impressive,” she just says, snatching the pack from Dyson and lighting up.  

 *

This time, Tamsin dreams of the sea, and her breath gets caught in her throat at the sight of it. The beach is empty – as any beach should be under this noontime heat, but Tamsin doesn’t really care, breathing the smell of salt and sun in.

 _My shoulders would be so burned in the morning,_ she thinks, lifting her top above her head and toeing her shoes off. _But this should be worth it._

Behind her, a voice calls out. “Wait, Tamsin, you’re not—” Tamsin looks over her shoulder one last time, only to find Dyson sitting on the hood of his car and opening a can of beer, watching her. His feet are bare and the sand under her feet starts burning.

 _Suit yourself,_ she thinks, unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them off, running into the water until she’s shoulder-deep, before submerging her head for good measure. It reminds her of younger days.

When she walks back to the car, Dyson tries to look away as he hands her a freshly open beer can – now lukewarm, but perfect anyhow. Tamsin tries to put on her jeans, steadying herself with one hip against Dyson’s car, while trying not to spill her beer all over herself.

“Good dip?” Dyson asks. “We should be going back. Kenzi says she’ll be out _in a while._ ”

Tamsin smirks, downing her beer in one go. “I remember once being in Asia with—you remember Rach? Three girlfriends back, I think,” she says, shrugging her shirt on. Her clothes _cling_ to her and she feels entirely too salty, but who cares? “It was just like this, but hotter. And I mean that in all senses of the word, you know what I’m saying?”

Dyson looks into his now empty beer can and smiles to himself, before reaching into the driver’s seat and grabbing two fresh cans. “I probably don’t need to hear more, but whatever helps you reach the point sooner, Tams.”

Tamsin takes the beer he’s offering and sighs. “What I’m saying – I used to be able to do this, you know? I used to be able to do this with girls – and by _girls_ , I mean, I think Rach still hates me for being a bitch because, you know, _Anna_ happened too quickly, but _this_ – this used to be easy.” Tamsin takes a swig from her can, timing her motion with Dyson’s, before looking out the sea again. “Easier.”

“People get older,” Dyson says. “Things get harder. It’s what happens. It’s the _thing_.”

“I hate _things_ ,” Tamsin just says, finishing her beer.

When she shifts her eyes back to the sea, there Bo is, her sunkissed skin glistening in the water. She is motioning for Tamsin to come. _The water’s lovely,_ she’s saying, her eyes a startling shade of blue, like the sky. _Come, let’s get burnt._

Tamsin walks closer, feet digging into the damp sand. She’s pulling off her shirt again, a burning ache already starting on her shoulders.

_Come._

Tamsin wakes with a jolt, and Dyson turns to her, concerned. “Are you all right?” When she looks around, she finds herself back at the pool side, towel draped over her hips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“It’s all right,” she says, sitting up and straightening her tank top. “Just – I was dreaming, is all.” Her throat is parched.

“Good dream?” Dyson asks, smiling. And then, without waiting for her answer, he adds: “Kenzi’s waiting at the Dal. She called earlier.”

Tamsin almost asks about Bo, but holds her tongue. “The dream’s nothing,” she just says, touching her shoulders absently like she were checking for burns. Somehow, she feels saltwater-icky. _But why is that?_ “Also, I’m kind of thirsty.”

Dyson eyes her curiously before handing her a glass of water. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Tamsin sighs. How exactly does she start explaining these dreams to Dyson, of all people? “Remember Rach?” she begins tentatively, standing up and draping the towel over the back of a seat.

“Three girlfriends back,” says Dyson automatically, standing in kind. “Or was it two? Hated you for a time, wasn’t she the one you were in Thailand with, or something?”

 _Oh, Dyson,_ Tamsin just thinks, smiling as she’s shaking her head. “Never mind,” she says, walking past him. And then, “Why aren’t more ladies falling all over themselves _over you_ , again?”

“Who says?” asks Dyson.

“Smug bitch,” Tamsin just says, smirking. “Come on, can’t have Kenzi finishing that bottle by herself, eh?”

*

“There you are.” Kenzi is already seated at the bar when they arrive, holding what could either be a glass of vodka or whiskey. “You smell like the beach,” she tells Tamsin, crinkling her nose as she hands her a sachet of moisturizer. “You can thank me later.”

Tamsin looks at her strangely, wondering whether Kenzi was indeed already drunk. “Uh, thanks?” she just says, and Kenzi slides the bottle toward her with a nudge. _Vodka,_ Tamsin confirms, pouring a new round for three.

They talk shop for a while – Kenzi’s still high about their last show, and Dyson’s only an all-too-willing accomplice in reliving the _glory_ of the first night.

“We should totally do that again,” Kenzi says, slurring a little, her hands in the air animatedly. “But with more practice, and stuff.”

“Practice,” Tamsin repeats, putting both elbows on the bar. “Sounds like commitment.”

“Because that’s precisely what it _is_ ,” says Kenzi, hand dropping to Tamsin’s knee and squeezing. “Please, _please_ , Tam-Tam. It would be a lot of _fun,_ I swear.”

“Think about it, T,” says Dyson, looking at her above the rim of his glass before taking the shot.

“Sure,” she just says, pouring herself another and knocking it back wordlessly. She closes her eyes as she lets the vodka course through her, and in her mind’s eye she still sees that night as it was: The lights, the hundred nameless faces, all those hands in the air. Somewhere, Bo and Lauren are sharing a turntable, huddled close and whispering to each other, pointing at her and smiling and _looking_ at her in that unmistakable way— _Jesus._

When Tamsin opens her eyes, the word that flashes in her head is, _Want._

“Tamsin?” Dyson breaks in, touching the bottle in his hand with her now empty glass.

“More,” she just says, breathing out.


	7. help, i'm alive

 

Tamsin skips practice, blames it on illness, and manages to keep out of the group’s orbit until _Lauren_ herself pays her a visit, looking very _doctor-_ ly as she stands by the door, waiting for Tamsin to invite her in. 

“Sorry,” Tamsin blinks, coming to her senses and ushering Lauren inside her flat, opening the door wider and frantically gesturing with a hand. “It’s just – well, I _have_ been sick. Kind of.”

Lauren smiles, lowering her bag onto a table. “So Bo tells me,” she says. “How are you feeling?” And then, off the look on Tamsin’s face: “They did tell you I’m a doctor by _profession_ , yes?” 

Tamsin nods, swallowing. “Of course, but really--I’m all right,” she says, and suddenly, she _does_ feel feverish – something Lauren immediately picks up on as she touches Tamsin’s forehead with her palm.

“Fever?” she asks.

Tamsin shrugs. “Haven’t been exactly watching—”

Lauren _tsk-tsks_ at that, pulling a device from her bag and hoisting it above Tamsin’s forehead like a small gun. Tamsin holds her breath, and Lauren smiles at her, perhaps noting her anxiety. “Relax, I’m just getting your temp.”

“Not really a fan of hospitals,” says Tamsin, smirking. “Nor of fancy medical equipment--no  offense intended.

“None taken,” says Lauren, for a moment distracted by her device. And then, turning to Tamsin, “Glad to report your temperature’s normal,” she says. “Which kind of means my work here is done, as it sort of rules out blood testing. Kind of a disappointment actually – I’d been looking forward to drawing your blood.”

Tamsin coughs at that. “You were ready for _blood extraction_?”

Lauren pats her bag absently, before: “I was kidding, Tamsin.” And then, “So it probably goes you won’t be playing tonight?”

Tamsin looks at the calendar on the wall. “Shit, tonight’s Wednesday,” she says, scratching her forehead.

“Come out to the Dal anyway,” Lauren says. “Bo and I are spinning tonight, so.” Lauren leaves her sentence hanging there, looking away to examine the entirely uninteresting walls. “Besides, it seems you’re not horribly ill; you could use a decent night out.”

Tamsin smirks at that. “Doctor’s orders, then?”

“Something like that,” says Lauren, picking her bag up and heading for the door. “So we’ll see you later?”

Tamsin smiles, almost nodding. “Why did you come here, doc?”

Lauren looks at her like she were genuinely confused with the question. “Around here, we look after each other,” she just says, smiling kindly. “It’s our _thing._ ”

Tamsin laughs at that, rubbing at her forehead. “You guys have very interesting _things_ going around here,” she just says.

“You’ll get used to it,” Lauren says. And then: “Are you feeling any other pain? I’ll leave some ibuprofen, just in case.”

“Thanks doc.”

Lauren pauses at the door, hand on the knob. “Keep hydrated, water usually does half the work anyhow.” And then, “Also--Trick has a new pool table. Should be fun.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tamsin says, giving Lauren a small salute as she closes the door behind her.

*

The Dal’s already packed when Tamsin gets there at nine, and truth be told, she almost backed out at the sight of it, and she would have left already, had Kenzi not pulled her out of the swirling mass of newly-twenties and to the backstage.

“Looks like the _Doctor_ fixed you up good earlier huh,” says Kenzi, thrusting a cold bottle of freshly opened beer into her hand. “You _are_ allowed alcohol, aren’t you?”

Tamsin rolls her eyes, taking a swig for emphasis. “I’m _fine_ ,” she says as she lowers the bottle from her lips. “Just a bug.”

Kenzi shrugs, nodding to the CCTV. “Good, because this set’s just starting. Better steady yourself against a wall, or something.”

When Tamsin looks up, she catches Bo and Lauren on the CCTV, standing with their shoulders touching. Kenzi buzzes the intercom, and Bo partially disappears from the screen when she turns to get it.

“Tam-Tam’s here,” Kenzi says in a sing-song voice.

Bo turns to the camera and says, “Hey there T,” before giving a little pout. “We haven’t seen much of you around lately.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tamsin says into the intercom, leaning over Kenzi’s shoulder and keeping her eyes on the screen. Bo smiles at her. _And was that a ghost of a lip bite right there?_ Tamsin blinks, remembering the beer in her hand and drinking some more.

On the screen, Bo leans closer to Lauren, who then pushes her headphones askew to accommodate Bo’s whispering. Tamsin registers a slight _twinge_ somewhere, watching how comfortable and familiar and _attuned_ they are to each other, and Tamsin tries not to flinch when Bo touches Lauren’s hand on the mixer and Lauren laughs into Bo’s ear in response.

_The utter ease of this,_ she thinks, cocking her head to the side to peer momentarily into the dance floor. The crowd’s still working up a rhythm, but Tamsin can feel it already, how this night’s energy is about to be as epic as last week’s; there’s a buzz that’s slowly getting to her, and it’s starting from the tips of her fingers.

“You should come up,” Bo’s saying, and it pulls Tamsin’s eyes back to the CCTV. “See the crowd from up here. You haven’t been here before, right?”

“That’s a totally _dope_ idea,” Kenzi says, taking Tamsin by the shoulders and pushing her toward a previously unnoticed staircase. Tamsin coughs out, taken by surprise and choking lightly on her beer. Kenzi takes the bottle from her hand and mutters an apology.

“I don’t think this is a very good idea,” she tells Kenzi.

Kenzi rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine,” she says, adjusting the collar of Tamsin’s jacket. “Girl, this jacket is _pretty._ ”

“Kenz – FOCUS,” Tamsin says, shaking Kenzi’s shoulders. “This is _not_ a good idea.”

“Ideas don’t have to be _good_ to be _fun.”_

Tamsin groans. “Why do I keep finding myself in this sort of company?” Kenzi hits her arm so affectionately that Tamsin finds herself unable to keep her grin in.

*

The mezzanine is barely the size of the stage downstairs, and Tamsin feels nervous the minute the two of them come into view -- though really, what did she expect? _As if the CCTV feed hadn’t been paralysing enough,_ she thinks, composing herself and walking over.

“You weren’t kidding when you said I had to see the dance floor from up here,” Tamsin tells Bo, who greets her with a half-hug, throwing her arm around Tamsin’s shoulder carelessly before pulling her closer and presenting her to Lauren. Lauren turns to them, still nodding with the beat, before meeting Tamsin’s eye and winking.

_Fucking winking,_ Tamsin thinks, reminding herself to keep breathing – an all too arduous task, to begin with, now that Bo’s pressed up against her arm and whispering into her ear.

“Like the view?” asks Bo, and Tamsin swears she felt Bo’s lips graze her earlobe before pulling away. Tamsin forces herself to keep still.

“You sure know how to work up a crowd,” she says, once her heartbeat’s been steadied.

“Hump day crowds are _easy_ ,” says Lauren from behind the table, smiling at Bo before turning to Tamsin. “They’re too eager for the weekend. We’re just here to give them what they want.”

“And that is?” Tamsin asks, eyeing Bo as she looks over the crowd, bent over slightly with her hands braced against the railing. Tamsin makes it a point to look away when she catches her eyes start wandering.

“A mind-blowing good time,” says Bo, without looking.

Lauren coughs at that; it sounds like she’s deliberately calling Tamsin’s attention, and Tamsin feels a chill wrap around her. _Caught,_ she thinks, turning to Lauren.

What she sees baffles her: Lauren’s smiling. “Ever wondered how to work this?” she’s asking, and Tamsin feels Bo put a hand on the small of her back and _push_ , like she were saying, _She told you to get closer. Get on it._

_What the fuck is happening?_ is what Tamsin wants to know.

“I’ll go get us some drinks. Anything you want?” asks Bo, stopping by the top of the stairs and looking over her shoulder.

“Whatever you’re having,” Lauren says. “And that cheesy bit thing you and Kenzi were going gaga over last week – what was that?”

“You could identify bones by name and location, but you couldn’t remember an item on our _menu_?”

 “I’m a busy woman, what can I say?”

Bo laughs, waving a hand as if to say, _Whatever,_ before proceeding downstairs. Lauren smiles, looking pleased with herself as she turns up the music as a faster tune comes on. Tamsin recognizes it as a Katy Perry remix of some sort. “ _Really_ , doc?”

“What?” Lauren asks. “I _like_ Teenage Dream, it’s very... complex.”

Tamsin waits until Lauren’s laugh breaks before laughing along – for all she knew Lauren might actually have been serious. Tamsin normally hates it when she couldn’t read people well enough to be able to tell, but then, Tamsin also usually enjoyed the so-called path to discovery.

“Won’t argue then,” she just says, touching a knob on the turntable tentatively. “So. Show me around your playground?”

Lauren holds her eyes for a moment before handing her Bo’s headset. “Wear this,” she’s saying, before taking Tamsin’s hand and placing it over another dial, leaning in closer as she says, “Here.” Lauren’s hand is warm, and yet Tamsin feels her fingers freezing. “Are you actually _scared?_ ”

Tamsin breathes out, shaking her shoulders. “Are you kidding me?” she says, turning slowly, waiting for any irregular, out-of-time development. “There, that didn’t hurt at all.”

“Good girl,” Lauren says, reaching past Tamsin to flip a switch off. “It’s easier than it looks, really. Not like we’re on an _operating_ table.” And then, a pause after her laugh, “You did catch what I did there, right?”

Tamsin squints at her, smirking. _This is where I decide I actually kind of like her,_ she thinks. “I did,” she just says. “And right there I was already starting to think if you could actually get any _cooler_.”

“I can’t help it, I’m a dork,” Lauren shrugs.

“Not that _that’s_ a bad thing.”

Lauren turns to her, hand steadying her headphones. “I kind of like you,” Lauren says, giving Tamsin a playful punch on her shoulder. It’s out so lightly that Tamsin could have very well dismissed it as something people _just said_ , but then this is _Lauren_ , and Tamsin finds that she _can’t_.

“Yeah,” Tamsin just says back, voice soft, biting down on her tongue to cut the rest of her sentence off.

*

Bo returns with drinks, her smile wide and _knowing_ , and immediately Tamsin feels a sort of guilt.

“I should probably let you guys do your thing,” she says, taking the beer from Bo and moving toward the stairs. “Don’t mean to cramp your style.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bo says, grazing Tamsin’s fingers. “There is no _cramping,_ much less _style_.” She stands closer to Tamsin near the stairs, touching Tamsin’s shoulder with hers. “Come on. Live a little.”

“Cut the girl some slack, Bo,” Lauren calls from behind her, and Tamsin breathes out as Bo steps away. “Remember, she’s just bounced back from being _ill_.” The last word has a strange sort of lilt on it, like Lauren expects Tamsin to catch it, like it were a private joke of sorts. _Great,_ Tamsin thinks, _Now you’re having inside jokes with Lauren. Good job keeping out of trouble, Tamsin._

“I’m just _saying_ , babe – Tamsin could stay. If she wants.” Tamsin almost doesn’t catch the endearment – _almost._ Still it feels like getting punched in the gut. “And besides,” Bo continues. “Don’t you like a bit of an audience?”

Lauren mock gasps, hand grabbing her chest in a comic attempt to do drama. “You don’t think _this_ ,” she says, casually pointing to the dancing mass below them, “is audience enough?”

Bo pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

_Why do people always talk like I’m not here, for fuck’s sake,_ Tamsin thinks. “You guys—” Bo and Lauren break into laughter, turning to Tamsin.

“Sorry,” Lauren says. “This—it’s—pay us no mind. It’s just a thing.”

_Here we go again with these_ things _,_ Tamsin thinks. Confused as she is, she finds herself smiling anyhow. “You and your crazy things,” she just says, raising her bottle at them before taking a step down the stairs. “I’ll see you around.”

As expected, Kenzi greets her with an all-too-knowing grin upon landing. “So, how did that go?”

“Oh, you know,” Tamsin shrugs. “The usual. Sooner or later there’s got to be an explanation, though.”

“They _like_ you,” Kenzi says. “Isn’t that a good enough explanation?”

Tamsin sighs, wiping at her brow with the edge of her thumb. “Whatever, let’s—I don’t know,” she says, finishing her beer before taking Kenzi’s hand. “Dance or something – pity to let this _beat_ go to waste, hm?”

“ _Girl._ This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

*

It feels like a different plane altogether, the dance floor – even with her hands raised in the air, Tamsin can’t help but feel _so small,_ drifting in a huge sea of movement. Every now and then, she looks up toward the mezzanine, trying to decipher the movements there – once, she thinks she sees them kissing. That’s the last time she looks that night.

The set probably feels much longer to Tamsin than in actually is – or it could be the alcohol, or a strange relapse that could be taking over her body right there. It doesn’t really matter. When she blinks, things seem to be swirling closer and slower, and at some point she loses Kenzi altogether – perhaps the girl’s off somewhere, dancing with some attractive bald guy in a corner. Not that Tamsin blames her; she could only imagine how shit a dancing partner she’s turning out to be.

At some point further, Tamsin decides she needs some air. _That would be good,_ she says, absently patting around her pockets for a cigarette. She finds an old pack in her back pocket and proceeds outside, muttering soft thank you’s to the invisible god that put it there.

When she gets to the curb, she finds Dyson there, leaning against his parked car, smoking as well. “I thought you were sick?” he asks, good-naturedly. “Glad you seem to be doing well.”

“Ah, well. You know me,” she just says, settling beside Dyson. “I’m glad you’re here – I’m down to my last cig.”

“That’s all I’m here for,” he says back, smiling. “Have you seen Bo?”

Tamsin takes a long drag off her cigarette before blowing to the side and fixing her eyes on the pavement. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Had a brief run-in with the wonder twins upstairs. They’re mixing right now.”

Dyson just laughs. “Ah.”

“Don’t ‘ah’ me,” Tamsin says, elbowing him. Something’s up and Dyson sounds like he’s on the verge of telling. “Where’s the rest of that sentence?”

He drops his cig and crushes it underfoot before pausing to light a new one. “Classic modus underway, it seems.” And then, “Let me guess -- Lauren showed you the table?”

Tamsin nods wordlessly at first, and it takes a couple of moments before she is able to laugh out loud. “Those bitches,” she says, tossing her cigarette in kind. “Is this—”

Dyson nods. “Let’s just say you’re definitely not the first.”

“What, they’re like, serial ménage-a-trois _artists_ or something?”

“Well. Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Tamsin shoves him so hard he practically slides off the hood for a second, off-balanced. “Fuck off, man,” she says, grabbing Dyson’s cigarette pack from his hand. “Seriously, I may be crazy, but the last thing I need to be doing is _break people up_ , know what I’m saying?”

Dyson picks himself up, and slides a cigarette from the pack Tamsin’s now holding. “I don’t think you need to worry about breaking them up Tam-Tam,” he says. “As I’ve said: Bo’s not big on rules.”

 “And just what is your sagest advice, wise one?”

“Give in,” Dyson says, without skipping a beat. “Saves everybody else some time.”

Tamsin shoves him again, harder this time. “You’re utterly useless, you know that?” she just says, focusing on her cigarette instead, trying not to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on loop while writing this part: https://soundcloud.com/rubyrose1/ruby-rose-mix-tape - this is fantastic. Just saying.


	8. collect call

When Tamsin goes back into the bar, the music is a bit muted, and the atmosphere is considerably less charged. There’s still a sizeable crowd milling about, though it seems to be thinner than a while ago, when she was still dancing here with Kenzi.

_Kenzi._ Tamsin looks around and tries to find her – as expected, Kenzi finds her first, eagerly waving at her upon eye contact. She’s standing near the entrance to the ante room and she’s motioning for Tamsin to get in.

Tamsin sighs. If only this were thoroughly shit company – it would have been easier to stay away. Only it isn’t, and here Tamsin is, coming back like the tide. She pushes through the crowd wordlessly, trying to avoid stepping on anybody’s foot.

When she gets to the ante room, she finds Bo and Lauren standing beside a pool table, holding cue sticks. _Of course,_ Tamsin remembers, blinking. _So this was the thing Lauren was talking about._ “I see you guys got a new toy,” she greets, clearing her throat.

Bo looks up from the table, lifting her chest off the surface slowly. “Hey there, T,” she greets, smiling. “Come and join? We could use another player.”

“Killers,” Kenzi says, handing her a cue stick. “We’re sinking solids, you’re sinking stripes.”

Tamsin shrugs. It’s been a while since she last played pool, but she figures she could always just wing it. “Cool,” she says, tapping the edge of the table. “So, how do we split this?” When Kenzi snickers, Tamsin tries to stop herself from elbowing her outright.

“Ah, well,” Lauren comes forward. “These two are inseparable anyway, so. Seems like it’s the two of us versus the Terrible Twins.”

Kenzi makes a show of cracking her knuckles and stretching. “ _Prepare_ ,” she says, moving around the table, squinting at them for effect. “OK Bo-Bo -- you go first.”

Lauren turns to Tamsin with a look that says, _Massacre, obviously,_ and there is little Tamsin could do not to laugh.

*

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Tamsin lets herself be thrown anyway: Lauren is unbelievably good at this.

“My father said I could be anything,” Lauren says, leaning close to the table to prepare for her next shot. “Honestly, I wanted to be a rocket scientist.”

“Well, who didn’t,” says Bo, leaning alongside Lauren to check her aim. Tamsin recognizes it as an attempt at distraction, but she decides to let it slide. Lauren is very much in her _zone_ , and it would take a lot more than that to distract her from this shot. “Besides – you’re technically a rocket scientist.”

“Medicine is different from rocket science,” Lauren smiles. “A lot _harder._ ” The emphasis on that last word comes along with the smooth push, and as with the first two times, this one sinks ball number ten effortlessly into a corner pocket. Kenzi lets out a little yelp, while the sound Bo makes is actually closer to a whimper.

_Not that I blame you,_ Tamsin thinks, watching the action from the far end of the table, hands gripping the edge of it tightly.

“Pool is easy – trigonometry and physics. A bit of _pulse_.” Lauren follows the ball to the other side, deliberately grazing Bo’s back as she moves. “Right, Tamsin?”

Tamsin smirks at that, taking it as her cue. “Yeah,” she says, eyeing ball number 11 sitting near a side pocket. Breathing in, she lowers herself so that the table is at eye level before lining up to take the shot.

“Easy does it,” Lauren coos from the other end.

“Sure,” says Tamsin, pushing. The cue ball slides smoothly from cue tip to rail before kissing the target ball on its side _just so._ “I got this, doc,” Tamsin says, watching the ball as it falls into the pocket. She lets a breath out, relieved.

“Nice one,” says Lauren, raising her hand and stepping closer. Tamsin finds herself looking back, confused for a half-second before realizing that Lauren had been asking for a _high five._ “Um. Up here, T.”

“Oh,” Tamsin grins, reciprocating. “You’re such a dork.”

Lauren laughs, pushing Tamsin gently out of the way with her hip as she gets into position for the next shot. “And _you’re_ in my way,” she says good-naturedly, before leaning over and sinking the next one quite easily, without much fuss.

“Are we still here?” says Kenzi, rolling her eyes. “Because I’m totally here and I haven’t been to that table _at all_.”

Tamsin laughs, taking her next shot haphazardly, miscuing on purpose. The ball hits the rail at the wrong angle, hits nothing on its way before ending in one of the corner pockets. “Scratch,” she says, smirking knowingly at Lauren. “Sorry, doc. My bad.”

“You did that on purpose,” says Bo, grinning as she approaches the table and takes the first shot, quickly sinking ball number one.

“I did _not_.”

“Whatever,” Kenzi chimes in, approaching the table herself. And then, putting on an accent: “We’re gonna make you regret ever making that mistake.”

Tamsin only laughs, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

*

Tamsin and Lauren barely win the first round, beating Bo to the 8-ball by a hairline-thin miscalculation on her part. They decide to play another round, if only to grant Kenzi’s request to be on _every_ possible team.

Kenzi chooses Lauren in the second round. “I want to win,” she says, winking at Tamsin, “And I believe Dr Hotpants here will give me the victory I very well deserve.”

“What did I tell you about calling me Dr Hotpants, Kenzi?” Lauren asks in a mock-stern voice.

Kenzi looks down, fiddling with her cue stick. “Never in the presence of other people. Or at all.”

“Correct,” Lauren says. “Now, do you want to win or not?”

Off the side, Tamsin finds herself standing close to Bo, who is watching the scene amusedly. “You got to love Lauren when she’s in this competitive zone,” she tells Tamsin, leaning in. “I mean – _so hot_ , isn’t it?”

Tamsin tilts her head, trying to mask the fact that she’s been thrown. “What can I say? The doctor is a bad-ass at killer billiards.”

“You should see her go up against _Dyson_ ,” says Bo, laughing softly. “ _That_ match-up gets her going, for some reason.”

“Always wondered how this worked,” Tamsin says, shrugging. “You and Lauren. You and Dyson.” Pausing, Tamsin looks the other way, making sure Bo doesn’t see her face. “You and _anyone_ , for that matter.”

Sighing, Bo begins with, “Tamsin, I—” She is cut, however, by muted cursing—Lauren has just missed a shot, and Kenzi’s staring at the table with her mouth open. Tamsin exhales.

“Looks like you’re up,” Tamsin says, nudging Bo with an open hand at the small of her back.

“Looks like I’ll be getting back to you,” Bo answers, heading to the table and getting ready.

*

Bo exacts her revenge in the second round, beating Lauren and Kenzi to the 8-ball with two solids still on the table. Bo lines the last shot up, calls the right corner pocket and sinks it without fanfare. Tamsin lets out a slow whistle at the speed and precision, and Bo just gives Tamsin’s butt a little tap.

“That one’s for you,” she says, grinning.

Tamsin bites down on her tongue to keep her surprised yelp in. “Impressive,” she manages, swallowing hard and looking over at Kenzi, who is standing in a corner with her mouth open in apparent surprise. It makes Tamsin laugh, ultimately.

“What?” Kenzi asks, turning to her. “That was – how did _Bo_ even make that shot?”

“Luck,” Lauren chimes in, hand twirling her cue stick idly. “Seems Tamsin here is our lucky charm -- undefeated in both rounds, if I remember correctly.”

“I still don’t understand – that was mathematically impossible,” Kenzi blinks. Bo laughs, walking over to her and giving her a hug. The sight of it makes Tamsin smile harder. _To be in on something like this,_ she just thinks.

“Luck, as you’ve said.” Tamsin says out loud, following Lauren as she walks over to the corner to return her cue stick on the shelf. “All I did was stand here.”

“And fill those jeans perfectly, if I may add,” says Bo from the other end of the room, biting down on her lip. The comment makes Tamsin squirm; she shifts to her other leg, trying to be casual as she digs into her pockets with both hands, afraid they’d betray her. _Stay still,_ she tells herself, breathing.

“Wait – so that’s it?” Kenzi asks, breaking from Bo’s hug. “I haven’t even _won_ yet.”

“Sorry, Kenz,” Lauren says, shrugging her coat on. “Early meeting tomorrow – I got to go.” And then, turning to Bo: “You staying? I could drop you off, or—”

“I believe Tamsin has a ride,” says Bo, looking at Tamsin over Lauren’s shoulder. “You came in your truck, right, T?”

Tamsin pats around absently for her keys, only to find them in her back pocket. _Of course,_ she thinks. _Did I think they’d magically disappear?_ “Sure,” she finds herself saying, and off the side, Kenzi manages to slip out generally unnoticed. _So much for the support,_ Tamsin just thinks. “You can – it’s all right Lauren, I’ll drive her home.”

Lauren looks down, fixing her jacket. “Thanks,” she says, before looking up and around. Tamsin and Bo follow suit shortly, and they soon realize they're actually alone in the room. It puts a strange electric feel to the space they’re in.

“Where’s Kenzi?” asks Bo, leaning back against the pool table. Tamsin tries to steady herself against a far wall, catching Lauren’s eye and thinking, _Now what?_ When Lauren looks back, it feels like she’s asking the same question.

“She must have gone out to get some drinks,” Lauren says, clearing her throat. “So. I should get going—”

 “Already?” Bo asks, brow raised.

“I have a presentation in the morning,” says Lauren.  Tamsin slides down the wall slowly, seating herself on the floor. The beer in her hand is already lukewarm, but for the most part she’s thankful she has something to tide her over this moment.

“So? It’s tomorrow morning, and not _tonight_.”

“I have a presentation in the morning – _that I have yet to prepare for_ ,” Lauren clarifies, shaking her head as she smiles.

“Is the naughty and irresponsible Dr Lauren Lewis actually _cramming_ her presentation in less than 24 hours?”

“Well, not exactly all of it—”

“Gotcha,” says Bo.

“You’re _impossible_ ,” Lauren laughs. _What a sound,_ Tamsin just thinks, pulling herself together.

“Speaking of someone who _maybe_ should get going,” Tamsin begins, clearing her throat as she gets to her feet slowly, bless her shaky knees.

Lauren looks over her shoulder to catch Tamsin’s eye. “Between you and me, I really think that should be me.” Lauren places a chaste kiss on Bo’s forehead as a parting shot. “I’ll see you when I see you, hm?”

“All right,” Bo drawls. “You go kill that presentation, ‘kay?”

Lauren moves for the door and looks back right before exiting, giving Bo a tight smile and Tamsin, the requisite small salute.

There’s a small moment of silence that hangs above their heads for a while before Tamsin speaks. “For a while there, I got nervous,” she begins, aiming for humor.

“Lauren’s such a dork, isn’t she,” Bo begins.

“I know.”

“You know how we met? Food poisoning,” says Bo, lifting herself onto the table’s edge, and Tamsin tries her damnedest best not to stare at Bo’s chest.

“Food poisoning,” she says instead, keeping her tone flat.

“ _Spaghetti_ , actually,” Bo clarifies. “She was on duty – you should see her in scrubs and glasses, clipboard, pen, the works. _Anyway,_ ” she clears her throat, trying to curb her excitement. “She was on duty that day, and I came in with a horrible stomach ache, and she _recognized_ me. It was embarrassing.”

Tamsin grins, amused. “Would you look at that – Dr _Fangirl._ ” Tamsin stays glued to the wall, conscious of the space between. Tamsin doesn’t trust herself here – not at all. “What did she say?”

“That I had to keep myself hydrated,” says Bo. “Because the Dal would be a bore if we weren’t playing the following Wednesday.”

“Doctor’s got _smooth_ moves,” says Tamsin.

“She dropped by the Wednesday after that, asking if we had room for a DJ. Imagine our shock.”

“And how was the first night, hm?” 

“ _Well,_ ” Bo tilts her head, looking at Tamsin with her eyes narrowed. “I remember _that_ first set I danced to – so hot, I felt like I was being set on _fire_.”

“ _That_ good, hm?”

Bo stares into the mid-space for a moment, speechless for a couple of seconds. And then: “Yes,” she says, nodding absently to herself. “ _That_ good.”

Tamsin allows herself a small laugh as she stares at Bo, currently lost in her own thoughts. Tamsin can almost see that first time: Bo on the dance floor, dancing with reckless abandon, hips shimmying to Lauren’s beat, the lights swirling above her outstretched hands—

“Listen, Tamsin—”

Tamsin blinks, snapping out of her little daydream. “It’s late,” she says, pushing herself off the wall and walking toward the table. “We should probably—”

When Tamsin’s near enough, Bo grabs her by the wrist and pulls her in for a kiss, lips lingering. This is no longer just a tease, this much Tamsin knows, and though she’s seen this coming, it still throws her, anyhow. For a second too long, Tamsin is frozen, stunned as Bo slips her tongue past her lips and pulls at her, harder.

Tamsin just lets her – she gives in to the feeling and, despite herself, she feels her hand come up and touch Bo’s cheek. The surface is warm, like a spot in the sunshine. With her eyes closed, Tamsin imagines early mornings and breathes in.

Bo is the first to pull away, heaving with her mouth still parted. “Wow,” she whispers, breath tickling Tamsin’s lips. “That was—well. _Something else_.”

“People say that about me,” Tamsin manages weakly, putting on a half-hearted smirk. “We shouldn’t—”

“Tell me you didn’t feel _that_ ,” Bo says, loosening her grip around Tamsin’s wrist, like she’s saying, _You’re free to go—if you want._

_If you can._

“What about Lauren?”

Bo shifts from Tamsin’s lips to meet her eye. “It’s complicated.”

“And I’m a pretty simple girl,” Tamsin counters, pushing herself off Bo. “With pretty simple wants." 

Bo sighs, getting off the pool table and following Tamsin’s movement. “Then let’s keep it simple tonight.”

(And if this isn’t just the hardest thing Tamsin’s heard all day.)

After a while, Tamsin finds it in herself to say something. “This is a bad idea,” she says.

Bo slips her hand into Tamsin and tugs. “Not all ideas have to be good to be _fun_.”


	9. twilight galaxy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. This sort of just wrote itself. All errors are mine.

 

They reach the door to Tamsin’s flat laughing, and Tamsin honestly cannot remember the last time she was this nervous and giddy. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks out of habit, shrugging her jacket off as she walks past the couch in the living room and heads into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator even to complete the routine. _What am I doing?_ she asks herself, reaching for a bottle of water.

When she gets back to the living room, Bo is sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, watching her like she’s been waiting. Tamsin feels her mouth go dry, so she uncaps her bottle of water and takes a long swig. Bo just smiles at her, says nothing; Tamsin tries not to let the shudder that courses through her show.

After a full minute of silence, Tamsin clears her throat. “So.”

“So.” Bo stands, rubbing her palm over her thigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

Tamsin blinks. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I _heard_ what you said,” says Tamsin, pushing herself off the kitchen doorway. _Is she giving me an out?_ When Tamsin crosses the gap between them, Bo looks at her almost shyly before looking away. “Am I—do you—”

Tamsin sighs, moving in first this time to kiss Bo, softly – slow, like she means it, hands cradling Bo’s face gently. When Bo opens her eyes at parting, Tamsin thinks it’s the bluest thing she’s seen. _Oh, we are so fucked._

“So,” says Tamsin, licking at her lower lip. “Is that clear enough for you, or—”

Bo silences her with another kiss – quick and rough this time, with a playful nip at the corner of Tamsin’s lower lip as punctuation. It’s the sort that takes Tamsin’s breath away, and for a while there, Tamsin is thrown.

“Just so we’re _clear_ ,” says Bo.

Tamsin grins. “Simple, all right?”

Bo’s hands are warm as they slide underneath Tamsin’s shirt. “Simple,” she nods, leaning in. “Whatever you _want_.”

*

Tamsin tells herself: _I’ve done this before._ While true, it doesn’t really do much about the rust, which must be showing; it might be nothing new, but it _has_ been a while, and Tamsin can’t keep the tremble out of her fingers.

“It’s all right,” says Bo, hand on Tamsin’s chest. In the half-light, Tamsin can see shadows where the curves of Bo’s body dip. She touches them gingerly at first, before holding on firmly, palm pressing. Bo lets out a sigh at the pressure. “See? I won’t— _ah._ I won’t _break_.”

Truth is, Bo is deceptively soft – and deceptively strong. Tamsin wonders how it all adds up – is this really that same girl at the Dal? And then she remembers Bo _dancing,_ and Tamsin realizes: _Yes, definitely._

Tamsin closes her eyes as she lowers her lips to Bo’s collarbone, tracing it lightly from the middle, outward. Bo sighs, arching into Tamsin’s hands, the tell-tale rustling of sheets under them telling Tamsin that Bo’s actually _clawing_ at them.

_Jesus,_ Tamsin thinks, trying to keep her whimper in. That Bo has let her be on _top_ , to begin with – _Simple, yeah?_ she almost hears Bo say. _Whatever you want._

_Whatever I want,_ Tamsin repeats in her head, sucking at Bo’s pulse point. Bo goes, “ _Fuck_ ,” straining right underneath Tamsin’s weight. “Come _on._ ” Bo scratches along Tamsin’s side with a fingernail, and Tamsin tears herself away from Bo’s neck to let out a gasp.

“ _Marks_ ,” Bo says, breathing out as she grips Tamsin’s waist, and Tamsin just _sinks_ into her upon contact, her breath knocked out of her chest. “Just—”

“Yeah,” Tamsin says, trying to recover. “All right.” Licking her lips, she begins again, gentler this time. She nips at Bo’s shoulder and skims her stomach with an open palm. Tamsin registers the slight, rhythmic creaking of the bed under their bodies as Bo pushes up.

Bo rocks against Tamsin, obliterating any coherent thought; everything is reduced to a single word: _Yes._ Tamsin finds herself slipping between, holding her breath at what she finds there: _This is nothing like anything I remember._

“I know I said—” Bo begins panting, and Tamsin has to open her eyes: If this is it, she _has to_ see. Bo’s eyes are closed; her jaw, clenched. “—we got all night, but this—” she rolls her hips, once, _twice_. Tamsin lets out a hiss; somewhere, she is _aching_ too. “—this is _torture._ ”

The sound Tamsin lets out at that is half-moan, half-laugh. “God, _Bo—_ ”

“Do _that_ again,” Bo says, smiling. “I love the sound of your laugh.”

Tamsin screws her eyes shut for a moment, letting a shudder course through her. _Did I just –_ Tamsin forces her eyes open. _It could be just this once,_ she reminds herself. She thinks about waves, and ebbing and flowing.

“ _Tamsin--_ ”

It starts as a small quake from the tip of Bo’s fingers – Tamsin feels it beginning when she wraps her free hand around Bo’s wrist and pins it against the bed. _Here it comes,_ she thinks, looking intently at Bo’s face, watching in awe as it washes over her.

_Here it comes._

*

“You’re softer than you look,” Bo tells her, after, and Tamsin tries not to snicker.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Bo props herself up on an elbow, letting the sheets fall off her shoulder. “It’s a good thing,” she says softly, tracing patterns on Tamsin’s bare arm with a finger.  “Though it begs the question – why though?”

“Why, what?” Tamsin stalls, knowing full well what Bo is asking, anyhow. She puts a hand around Bo’s waist and pulls her closer. Whoever said girls like her don’t cuddle are wrong – so dead wrong.

“Why are you so guarded around me?”

“Guarded?” Tamsin smiles, and when she presses herself closer against Bo’s chest, Bo can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “I’m naked under these sheets with you. Who’s guarded _now_?”

“Fair point,” Bo concedes. “But we weren’t naked the _whole time_ , were we?”

“Fair point,” Tamsin says in kind. With Bo warm against her, Tamsin feels a heady rush in her head – it feels a lot like vodka when she’s speed-drinking. The word that comes to her is _intoxication._ “Where do you get off being perfect?”

Bo laughs at that, burrowing closer to Tamsin, her breath hot against Tamsin’s neck. “You can stop trying to charm your way into my pants now—in case you haven’t noticed, you’re already _in them_.”

“Touche,” Tamsin says. For the first time, it feels like there are just _two_ people inside this room – instead of three.

_Three._ Just like that, the spell, so to speak, is broken. _Lauren_ , Tamsin remembers, and right there she feels a wince coming on.

“You okay?”

Tamsin sighs. “Nothing escapes you.”

“As you’ve said – perfect,” Bo says, and even in the dark, the glint of mischief in her eyes is visible. _This girl,_ Tamsin just thinks. “Kind of goes with the territory.” And then, “You’re thinking about Lauren.”

If this weren’t her bed to begin with, Tamsin would have taken that as her cue. _This is why you don’t take girls home, damn it,_ she tells herself, untangling herself from Bo.

“Tamsin.”

“Yes?” It is out sharper than intended. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, but really – _really,_ Bo.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Why are you here?” Tamsin asks, pressing the heel of her palms against her closed eyes. “How did we even get here?”

The bed shifts underneath them. Tamsin figures Bo’s getting up and dressed. _Smooth and classy, Tamsin,_ she scolds herself. When she opens her eyes, Bo’s walking around the room, sheet wrapped around herself. The sight of her twists at something inside Tamsin’s chest.

“Bo.”

“You think this is unfair, don’t you?” she’s saying, shrugging her top on.

“And isn’t it?” Tamsin’s standing up herself, feeling blindly for a shirt she’d tossed away somewhere. “This hasn’t exactly been the _clearest_ of arrangements.

The next time Tamsin looks, she finds Bo at the door, her top only halfway done. “It’s been over for a while,” she says softly, breathing out. “We’re—we’re still figuring it out, all right? That’s supposed to be between us—”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of keeping me out of it, either,” says Tamsin.

“And I’m sorry. It’s just that – this is how it happens with me. It’s my thing.”

“ _Jesus,_ Bo,” Tamsin groans, rubbing at her forehead with her fingers. “We have got to start naming _things_ at some point, and stop calling them _just things,_ for fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry,” Bo says, closing her eyes. “That’s my thing too.”

_This girl,_ Tamsin just thinks, frustrated. When she looks at Bo again, she has this totally confused expression that ultimately makes Tamsin laugh. _I’m going crazy_. _Absolutely, batshit--_

“Is that a good laugh or a bad laugh?” Bo asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest, toying absently with the collar of her top.

“I don’t _know_ ,” says Tamsin. “Christ. What _exactly_ do we have here?”

“Tamsin.”

“No, it’s – I just _need_ to know where we’re at right now. You ever feel that way?”

Bo quiets for a while before approaching the bed again, sitting on the far edge tentatively. Tamsin looks at her, gives her a moment before lowering herself on the bed in kind, sitting opposite Bo, the tussled sheets between them.

“Just so you know,” Bo begins, fiddling with the hem of the comforter just beneath her. “This isn’t exactly how I thought I’d spent the rest of this night.”

“Yeah,” says Tamsin, tugging at her end of the comforter, mirroring Bo’s movement. “Who’d have thought you were a cuddler?”

Bo laughs, tossing a pillow over at Tamsin. “Tell anyone, and I’ll _kill_ you.”

“Hah,” Tamsin says, still smiling. And then, looking right at Bo, she adds: “You almost have.”

The look on Bo’s face softens, as she leans over to put a hand on Tamsin’s, now resting atop a pillow. “Hey.”

Tamsin knows a thing or two about things running their course; it feels like that right now, right here in her bedroom of all places. She lets Bo’s hand stay for a moment longer before sliding her hand out from underneath, slowly.

“The funny thing is,” Tamsin begins. “I kind of promised Lauren I’d drive you home.”

“Nah,” Bo says, smiling. “I’m pretty sure I could manage from here.” She fixes her top and buttons it up for good measure, before reaching for Tamsin again. “I’ve wanted you since that first time -- wanted to kiss you since that first moment you set foot on that stage,” she says, voice soft. “I thought you should know.”

Tamsin closes her eyes, waits for Bo to pull away before opening them again. The next thing she knows, Bo’s already standing by the door. “It’s the same thing I keep coming back to,” Tamsin says. “I thought you should know.”

Bo bites her lip. “So.”

“So.”

“So if you ever change your mind,” says Bo.

“So if you ever make up yours,” Tamsin says in return.

Bo laughs, shaking her head. “You’ll know,” she just says before heading on out.


	10. gimme sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren, Dyson, Tamsin, drinking. Sitting in a bar talking about a girl. And then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically the last chapter, as the one that follows (and it will, very shortly) is already an epilogue. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who joined me on this crazy ride. Thank you :)

 

“Why did it end?” asks Tamsin, and Lauren shrugs before knocking back her shot.

“It wasn’t supposed to last,” Lauren says, tapping Dyson’s arm wordlessly as if to say, _More._ Dyson pours all of them another round and says nothing. After all, they’re in the Dal at 3 in the afternoon on a Monday, doing what seems to be a post-mortem on Tamsin’s encounter with Bo. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s what she said.” Tamsin manages a weak grin, draining her shot after.

“If you girls don’t slow down, we’d be done with this bottle and it hasn’t even been an _hour_ ,” says Dyson. “Also, Kenzi would kill me if she finds out we’re clearing the liquor shelves _without her_."

Tamsin sighs, turning to look through the window that opens to the street. “I bet if we step out in the sunshine right now we’d catch fire,” she says, before looking back into her empty shot glass.

“Interesting proposition,” says Lauren.

“And you could, you know. Fix me up afterwards.”

“Not if I’m on fire with you.”

“Okay then,” Dyson interrupts, re-opening the bottle and pouring another round. “Nobody’s going out and catching fire, all right?”

Tamsin and Lauren pause for a moment, considering their newly filled shot glasses before sharing a laugh. It starts slowly before building until it hurts; this pounding thing inside Tamsin’s chest.

“I liked you, you know?” Lauren tosses back her drink, letting out a soft hiss afterwards. “I mean, I still do. And not in the way you probably expect,” she adds, looking Tamsin in the eye. _Is it the alcohol, or is this conversation actually turning a bit serious?_ Tamsin narrows her eyes, trying to clear her vision.

“I thought you’d be good for her,” Lauren continues, and it feels like she’s punching Tamsin in the chest. “Somehow I’ve always known – Bo needs someone who could be on her level and stay there. Like you.”

“What, you think you’re too good for her—”

“I think I’m _not_ good enough.” When she lowers her shot glass back on the table, Dyson sets out to pour her another. “I’m a _doctor,_ Tamsin. How long do you think I can keep living two lives?”

“Well, you’ve been doing fine, haven’t you?”

“It gets tiring.” When Lauren smiles at her, it’s like Tamsin sees her for the very first time. “Remember that presentation I was supposed to do, after that night—”

“Pool night, yeah,” says Tamsin. “How’d that go?”

“Fantastic, actually.”

Tamsin smiles, raising her shot glass. “Finally, something I could drink to, and not in an ironic way.”

“The Board approved, I’m getting a grant,” Lauren continues. “And I’m leaving in two weeks.”

“Leaving?” Dyson picks up on that immediately. “For how long?”

“Two years.”

There's a stunned silence that hangs over them, before Tamsin finally manages to ask: “Have you told Bo?” 

Lauren laughs, though the sigh that tails it ultimately betrays how she’s really feeling about this. “When we called it off this time around, I thought maybe I’d do it differently. We’re always calling it off at some point anyway, though this time it feels like I’m done – like _done_ -done. You ever get that feeling?” 

“But you love her.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I was hoping to make this easier.”

“Sorry.”

Lauren smiles anyway as Dyson nudges Tamsin. “Not that this is ever easy. What I’m saying is – Bo likes her _options._ That’s the first thing about her.”

“So I noticed,” says Tamsin. This is the most relaxed that Lauren’s been around her, Tamsin notes, and it’s a pity that this conversation is under these circumstances. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.”

“I’m just glad there’s someone else who understands this,” Lauren says, looking at Tamsin. “I mean – you get it, don’t you?”

Tamsin holds Lauren’s eye for a moment and wonders what memory of Bo she’s holding onto; hers is that of Bo onstage, that first time they played a set together – that split-second before she leaned in for that kiss. _Who could forget a thing like that,_ she thinks. “Yeah,” she says out loud, and Dyson moves in to pour the last shot from the bottle. “I do.”

“So,” Dyson says. “This is the last round.”

“We should make a toast,” Lauren says, raising her shot glass. “To our girl, Bo.”

_Ours._ Tamsin wonders how it could be so difficult to wrap her head around such a small word. “To the insanely talented, ridiculous and incorrigible Bo,” she says, lifting her glass in kind and turning to Dyson with a brow raised.

Dyson clears his throat. “One hot, unpredictable mess,” he says, shrugging. “And, hands down, the best sex I’ll _ever_ have.”

“Amen,” Lauren says, smirking as she knocks her drink back.

Tamsin laughs, following suit. “ _Amen_.”

*

When Kenzi drops by around half-past five, she finds the three of them seated on the stage, their backs to the wall and a half-empty bottle of Cuervo between Dyson’s legs.

“You started without me,” Kenzi pouts, climbing onto the stage to sit beside Dyson. “I am feeling very betrayed right now.”

Dyson slings an arm around Kenzi’s shoulder and pulls her in closer. “Sorry Kenz,” he says, the slur in his voice unmistakable. “It’s Lauren’s fault.”

“ _My_ fault?” Lauren asks, mock offended. And then, to Kenzi, “Sorry Kenz. Tamsin needed a drink too.”

Kenzi puts on a sympathetic face at that. “That bad?”

Tamsin shrugs, sagging against the wall. “Did you know Lauren’s leaving?”

“What?” Kenzi moves for the bottle of tequila herself. And then, turning to Lauren: “When were you planning on telling me?”

“I was hoping to float the leaving part more gently, Tamsin.”

“S’rry,” says Tamsin, addressing no one in general. When Lauren coughs out loud, it sounds like a laugh. Kenzi is not pleased at all.

“You haven’t told Bo, have you?” asks Kenzi, who proceeds to take a swig straight from the bottle off Lauren’s non-reply. “ _When_ are you planning on telling her?”

Lauren sighs. “Soon.”

“That’s not a comforting answer,” says Kenzi.

“Well, right now, it’s all I have.”

Kenzi looks at her before taking another swig, hissing afterwards before wincing. Dyson grabs the bottle from her hand and tucks it away. “You’re _leaving_ ,” she just says again, wiping at her now-teary eyes. “It’s just—what would happen to _us_?”

“You mean, what would happen to _you_?” Lauren asks, confused. “You’d probably carry on better than ever before.”

“We’d probably have to hire a new DJ,” Kenzi mumbles. “Not that _anyone’s_ ever going to measure up.”

“ _Kenzi._ ”

“We should probably do a major going-away mega-party or something.” Kenzi lights up considerably at her own suggestion. “Like, for _days_ in a row.”

“I think that would be great,” agrees Tamsin. “Though I’m pretty sure doing that for days in a row would kill us, at some point.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to die before I get deployed abroad,” says Lauren, and Dyson hands her the bottle of tequila as his gesture of agreement.

“But first -- you should tell Bo,” Dyson reminds her gently. “If we’re doing this mega-jam of sorts, she has to be in on it. _As soon as_.”

Lauren sighs, looking into the bottle before taking a sip. “I will,” she says, shaking the tequila off her shoulders after. And then, sliding her phone out of her pocket, she adds: “Why, I think I’m going to call her now.”

“Probably better when sober, Dr Lewis,” says Dyson, holding onto Lauren’s phone-holding hand and gripping. “You never know.”

*

Tamsin and Kenzi find themselves standing just outside the closed door of the ante room when Lauren and Bo have The Talk, their voices soft and calm that Kenzi cannot overhear them, not even with her ears against the door’s surface.

“Damn it,” she hisses, frustrated. “This isn’t working.”

Tamsin stands right beside her, leaning against the wall with her hands folded in front of her chest. “We’re not even supposed to be here,” says Tamsin. “Besides, are you trying to get a transcript or something?”

Kenzi pouts, deflated. “Sort of,” she says. “Why is there _no shouting_ ,” she whispers, frantic. “Shouldn’t there be at least shouting?”

Tamsin shrugs. She thinks she has an idea or two, but she decides to bite her tongue. “Maybe the room’s sound-proof,” she offers, smirking. Kenzi just rolls her eyes at her and punches Tamsin in the arm weakly.

When the door opens finally, Kenzi lets out a little squeal and Tamsin pushes herself off the wall to stand upright. They’re both surprised when Bo herself comes out to open it.

“I know you’ve been standing there all this time,” Bo says. Kenzi scoffs, mumbling something Tamsin doesn’t quite catch.

When Bo turns to Tamsin, there’s a shift in her expression – so slight that Tamsin would have totally missed it, had she not been staring this hard. “Hey T.”

It’s the first time they see each other since _that_ night, Tamsin feels the weight of it drop on her shoulder, just like that. “Hi,” she says, hands in her pockets. “Sorry, but really, we didn’t—we weren’t—”

Bo smiles, opening the door wider. “Don’t worry about it,” she just says, shaking her head like she’s shrugging something off. “Come on in. Might as well get a little going-away party started.”

Kenzi and Tamsin exchange looks, but they say nothing as they follow Bo into the room. Once inside, they see Lauren behind the mini-bar, arranging shot glasses. Upon seeing them enter, Lauren raises the bottle in her hand higher as if in salute.

“Hey,” Lauren greets softly, nudging an empty shot glass toward Tamsin. It slides smoothly over the counter and lands into Tamsin’s open hand. “Choose your poison,” she asks, smiling.

Tamsin smiles in return, unsure if she’s hiding her anxiety well. “You know which,” she tells Lauren, who shifts her eyes to Bo, now standing across the mini-bar, presumably talking with Kenzi. Tamsin has her back to the rest of the room; she doesn’t turn her head. “How did that go?” she asks, voice soft.

Lauren shrugs, pouring Tamsin her first shot instead. _Might as well,_ Tamsin just thinks, taking it in one swift move. Lauren watches her for a bit, eyes glued on the surface of the bar. “When you ask that way it makes it so hard to answer,” says Lauren.

“Sorry,” Tamsin says. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just—”

“Concerned,” Lauren finishes for her. “You’re one of the good ones, Tamsin. And believe it or not, that has made _this_ a whole lot easier.”

“Not that this is ever easy,” Tamsin says, and the way Lauren laughs in return tells her that she gets the reference. Lauren reaches over for another shot glass; the next round is for two.

“Nobody writes songs about the ones that come easy,” Lauren just says. When she raises her shot glass, Tamsin picks hers up and follows suit.

“And so we keep singing,” Tamsin replies, taking her shot.

*

At the end of the night, they find themselves sitting at the back of Tamsin’s truck, passing the last cigarette around.

“We should just ask Dyson to come over with a fresh pack of cigarettes,” Kenzi whines, taking a long, slow drag before passing it onto Tamsin. “The night is young.”

“Nah, let’s just make this girls’ night,” says Bo, who’s sitting between Tamsin and Lauren, rather appropriately.

“Also: Cigarettes are bad for you,” Lauren chimes in.

Tamsin giggles as she takes her brief turn at the cigarette before passing it onto Bo. “So’s vodka,” she says, and Bo starts laughing herself, coughing out the smoke. “Sorry,” says Tamsin, putting a hand on Bo’s leg lightly. She is warm under her jeans and Tamsin tries not to focus on it. _Not the place, Tamsin,_ she reminds herself.

“Come on doc; live a little,” says Bo, holding the cigarette aloft between two fingers before Lauren. Tamsin holds her breath as she watches the expression on Lauren’s face shift from confusion to abandon.

“Oh, fuck it then,” Lauren whispers, leaning in and taking a drag off the cigarette in Bo’s hand, lips touching the tips. Beside her, Tamsin feels Kenzi’s grip on her wrist tighten. Lauren takes a moment before coughing out, wiping at her lips with a knuckle as she falls back against the truck.

“There,” Bo says, slowly pulling away and leaning into Tamsin, the warmth of her body a startling contrast to the cold midnight air. She stretches her hand over to Kenzi, who is next in line.  The cigarette’s almost out. “Kenz?”

“You can take this, Tam-Tam – I’m done,” Kenzi says, pushing Bo’s hand toward Tamsin’s lips.

Tamsin looks on, still dazed from that brief moment. When her eyes focus, Bo’s leaning in even closer. The buzz in Tamsin’s head gets louder.

“You all right?” Bo asks softly, eyes tracing the edges of Tamsin’s face. “You can finish this off, if you want.” _Oh, we are so fucked,_ Tamsin just thinks, holding onto Bo’s cigarette-holding hand by the wrist and _pulling._ She’s had too much to drink, this much she knows; everything’s in slow-motion, and when she takes a drag, she feels _all of them_ on it, and right there, her chest feels like exploding.

Tamsin takes it down to the filter, pulls it in and holds it there, letting the smoke stay in her chest for a while longer than necessary – she believes the last drag always deserves to be somewhat honoured; this one, even more so. She looks up as she exhales; the night sky clouds over before her eyes.

“Wow,” Kenzi just says, exhaling like she’s been holding her breath in kind.

“Yeah,” Bo swallows, flicking the cigarette off the side of the truck, right past Lauren, who’s resting against the truck with her eyes closed, her breathing heavy.

Tamsin looks at Bo, her eyes still stinging from the smoke, and Bo looks right back at her, smiling. In this light, Bo is unbearably beautiful, and Tamsin’s mind is filled with things she _wants_ to do to her, right on the back of this truck, spectators be damned.

“ _Tamsin,_ ” Bo whispers, closing the space between them. The kiss is surprisingly chaste – all soft lips, no teeth, no tongue – like Bo is saying, _Later, maybe?_ Yet no matter the softness, the taste is still there and it is terribly maddening that Tamsin finds herself digging her fingers into her own legs in an effort to keep still.

The moment is probably shorter than it feels to Tamsin; again, she chalks it up to all that vodka. When Bo pulls away, she reaches over and wipes at Tamsin’s bottom lip with a thumb, and Tamsin thinks, _I am so done for._ A soft, “Bo,” is all she manages afterwards, her chest stilling.

“Let’s get these girls home,” Bo just says.

*

The ride home is mostly quiet with Kenzi and Lauren asleep, and Bo rides up front, navigating. Tamsin just lets her – never mind that she knows these streets anyway like the back of her hand. Bo seems to be enjoying herself, anyhow.

When they reach Kenzi’s, Bo reaches for her and shakes her awake, gently. “Kenz,” she says. “We’re home.” Kenzi stirs awake slowly before bolting upright, startled.

“Did I miss anything?” she asks, rubbing her eyes before letting out a soft _Ow_. “How _much_ did we have, seriously?” she groans, touching her head.

“Enough to power this truck, I suppose,” Tamsin says. “You need help?”

Kenzi shakes her head, pulling at her door. “No, I can—” When she tries to step out, she wobbles lightly, hand gripping the side of Tamsin’s truck. “Oh _shit._ ”

Tamsin and Bo exchange looks, before pulling at their seatbelts and clambering out. Despite having drunk as much, Tamsin feels surprisingly sober after that kiss. _Would you look at that,_ she just thinks, gripping Kenzi by the arm. “It’s all right,” she says. “I got you.”

Kenzi turns to Tamsin with her smile slightly askew. “I’ve somehow always known you’ll be good for her.”

“You’re drunk,” Tamsin just says, half-carrying Kenzi to the gate. Bo meets her there, fumbling for Kenzi’s keys in her purse. It’s a small comical moment that warms Tamsin’s chest.

“Your best friend is crazy,” Tamsin says, as they’re tucking Kenzi to bed.

“And that is why she is my heart,” Bo replies, placing a kiss on Kenzi’s forehead.

When they get back to the truck, Lauren’s already awake and standing outside the truck, leaning against the door. “Is Kenzi all right?” she asks as they approach, cradling her face in her hands. “I feel like I’ve been _run over_.”

“Kenzi’s in bed,” says Bo, rubbing Lauren’s shoulder. “We’ll get you home soon enough.”

Tamsin takes a moment before approaching. “You all right to go on, doc?”

“How much did we _have_?” Lauren turns to her, trying to smile through the obvious pain, and Tamsin has to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing. 

“No one was counting, exactly,” says Tamsin, tapping Lauren’s shoulder awkwardly before moving toward the driver’s side. “Come on.”

Lauren stays awake but quiet for the rest of the drive, only speaking when they get to her place. “Thank you, Tamsin,” she says before getting out, and Tamsin finds herself turning her head to look her in the eye. “And not just for tonight. I think you know what I mean.” Lauren touches Tamsin’s hand before leaning in to kiss Bo on the cheek. “I have to go.”

Bo just says, “Write, all right?” Tamsin looks away as Bo’s voice breaks. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Save it,” Lauren says, a laugh lining her statement. “I’ll still see you at that last gig.” When Tamsin looks right back, Lauren’s already out the door.

They wait until Lauren has disappeared into her gate before sharing a long sigh. Tamsin looks at Bo – for the first time since that night, she’s _this_ close to her again, and Tamsin blinks at the realization.

“You all right?” asks Bo, touching Tamsin’s arm.

“Are you?” Tamsin asks back, trying to temper her question with a smile. A part of her wants to believe this is it, yet another part wants to be _surer_. “Lauren—”

“—Is not the one I’m with right now,” Bo completes for her.

Tamsin lets out her breath slowly. “I hope you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Bo takes a moment to fiddle idly with Tamsin’s wrist, before pulling her in to kiss her. This one has none of the chaste softness of the previous kiss as Bo wraps a hand behind Tamsin’s neck to keep her there, nibbling at Tamsin’s lower lip before pulling away excruciatingly slowly.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Tamsin takes a moment and thinks: _Breathe._ “All right then,” Tamsin just says, letting the warmth spread across her chest, finally. “That’s a start.” 


	11. breathing underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last gig. short and sweet.

 

Tamsin shields her eyes from the all-too-bright spotlight to survey the crowd. After all this time, she is still amazed at just how many people the Dal can actually pack in on a night like this, its deceptive floor area be damned.

When Lauren starts laying the beat, Tamsin turns her head and thinks, _No amount of practice could ever prepare me for this._ Lauren catches her staring and winks right back; Tamsin looks away, laughing.

 _God bless Bo’s idea of the ultimate going-away concert,_ Tamsin muses, before joining Lauren, tentative for the first few beats. When she looks to her side, Kenzi’s just slinging her guitar on, and Dyson’s just getting settled behind the drums.

“Where’s Bo?” Tamsin mouths at Kenzi, who looks up at her after plugging in.

“I don’t know,” Kenzi shrugs. “I thought she was with _you_.”

Tamsin rolls her eyes. Kenzi has always ribbed them for being inseparable over the past few days. “I was until _fifteen_ minutes ago,” she just says, and Kenzi just grins right at her before testing a couple of riffs.

“She’s on her way up,” says Dyson. “I think Bo’s actually _nervous_.”

“Nervous?” asks Tamsin. Lauren’s slowly speeding up the beat and Dyson laughs as he joins in, throwing his head back. Even the crowd is slowly getting into it, clapping their hands. When Tamsin turns to Kenzi, she’s already grinning widely.

They’ve been looping the intro a few times already when Bo comes in, singing the first few lines. Tamsin turns her head and struggles slightly to keep up, thrown by the sight of what Bo’s wearing. _Jesus Christ,_ Tamsin swears in her head, looking away and trying to focus on a neutral spot in the crowd. When Bo walks right behind her, she grazes Tamsin’s backside very lightly; the contact is enough to put goosebumps all over Tamsin, the Dal’s heat be damned.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Bo turns to the crowd, a hand raised. Lauren and Dyson tone down a bit to accommodate the adlib, and the crowd whoops in response. “Good,” Bo drawls, turning to Tamsin briefly before continuing. “Because tonight’s going to be _huge._ ”

The sound that comes after thunders in Tamsin’s ears; it is loud enough for Tamsin to feel it thump on her chest. _If this is how it’s going to be every time,_ Tamsin thinks, struggling to keep this steady rhythm going underneath Bo’s speech. _Perhaps I should be a bit tanked before getting on here._

“As you may now know, our DJ Dr Lewis right here,” says Bo, extending a hand to introduce Lauren, who acknowledges the crowd’s applause by turning up the volume for a moment. Tamsin watches as the crowd moves in time with it -- hands, cigarettes, bottles and glasses in the air.

 _Sweet madness,_ Tamsin thinks, turning to Kenzi, who wipes a tear from her eye. Tamsin is torn between wanting to hug her and just laughing really, really hard.

 “Dr Lewis is leaving for a two-year hiatus,” Bo goes on, and for a moment the crowd stills as Lauren turns it down completely. The Dal is hushed as Bo says: “This is going to be her last gig with us – for the time being.”

A round of applause follows the brief stunned moment. Tamsin alternates between staring at Bo and glancing at Lauren, who nods right back at her when she catches her. Tamsin tries to smile back despite the lump forming in her throat. _Surprise feelings are surprising,_ she thinks, blinking. There’s a sting in her eyes that may or may not just be all these swivelling lights.

“So,” Bo clears her throat. “How about we give her a night she won’t forget?”

That’s Dyson’s cue to start the beat, and Tamsin closes her eyes, listening for Kenzi. In the background, Lauren does what she does best, laying down that slow burn that builds on everything else.

When Kenzi reaches the second riff, Tamsin feels a warm hand on hers, and when she opens her eyes, she sees Bo’s smiling face.

“Let’s go, T,” she says, her other hand touching Tamsin’s cheek.

The guitar on her shoulder is lighter than Tamsin remembers.#


End file.
